


Grooming

by Elphen



Series: Nesting [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Angel Wings, Angels Nesting, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale puts his foot in it, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley teaching Aziraphale, Explicit Consent, Grooming, Hand Jobs, Inexperienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Nesting, Nesting Behaviour, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Scared Crowley (Good Omens), Sequel, Sharing a Bed, Supportive Aziraphale (Good Omens), Talking About Consent, Undressing, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Worried Crowley (Good Omens), aziraphale is a rock, because of heaven and hell, i guess?, learning boundaries, manifestation of genitalia, pleasure from grooming, significance of wings, slight AU, the importance of feathers, trying to communicate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: Sequel to 'Nesting'. As new nestmates, there's a few things that need to be navigated for Crowley and Aziraphale, even though so many things are the same. One of them is the ritual of grooming that is done between nestmates.Getting there means they need to communicate, though, which is easier said than done.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Nesting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534493
Comments: 253
Kudos: 485





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I still hate summaries...  
Anyway, why am I starting up another story when I have so many others on the go? Because I promised to make a sequel and so I wanted to show you all that I am working on it. That I haven't forgotten it. It's just, like my fics apparently do, ballooned on me a bit and so I had to make it into chapters.

Nothing had changed. Well, obviously, things had _changed_, quite significantly, even; they were now nestmates, honest-to-goodness nestmates, and there was no changing that. They’d promised themselves and each other that. No matter what happened, they would not give up on each other.

That being said, neither of them could help feeling apprehensive, to put it incredibly mildly. This wasn’t a case of a pair of teenagers disobeying their parents by being together. Well, perhaps there was an element of that, what with the role of Heaven and Hell and everything, but the penalty was rather more severe. It was like comparing a lighter to a star. Technically, they were both burning, but beyond that, there wasn’t much to compare with.

But as the days became weeks, and there still wasn’t so much as an increase in assignments or the amount of paperwork they had to deal with, Crowley couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief – while simultaneously feeling even more tense.

This couldn’t be right. They had to know. Somehow, they would have to _know, _so why wasn’t anything happening?

Another part of his brain argued that well, they’d kept their Arrangement a secret for almost a thousand years by this point, without either side suspecting a single thing. If they had, neither of them would’ve been able to carry on as they had, they knew that.

Why then, knowing that, did he suddenly bestow the powers above, or below, the accolade of observatory skills they had never yet exhibited? When they could be fobbed off with a well-placed memo why did he then think that they would instantly suss out that Aziraphale and he had become nestmates?

Unfortunately, he could answer his own question, at least to some extent. To the extent that explained why he was afraid, anyway.

What they had managed to…well, yes, fool them with was about what they did. The jobs they’d been sent to do, which none of the other angels or demons really had much track with. Not in the way that Aziraphale and Crowley had, in any case, nor to the extent. It was always easier to lie to someone who only had the vaguest idea at best of what the truth actually were.

When it came to something like this, however…this was about what they were, not what they did, and he couldn’t help the tendril of fear that on something like that, at the very least Heaven would be much more on the ball. It did, after all, split the focus of the angels that were involved in the nesting, on who and what they should love. In theory, anyway, as angels tended to fail to live up to their own brief, as it was.

Which in turn brought him back to the thought, the question of why the Almighty had created Her servants with such a handicap as that, in the sense of their intended, purported purpose.

He brought it up to Aziraphale, more than once and increasingly animated each time he mentioned it. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the angel didn’t seem as worried about the whole thing, despite the fact of…well, everything, really. He listened but didn’t make any comments or even any plans as to how they could deal.

At long last, after he’d asked flat out why he wasn’t worried, Aziraphale sighed heavily, put down the books that he’d been cataloguing – why he bothered when everything was neatly organised, even if it was to a system that only he knew and understood, was beyond the ginger – and pulled Crowley close.

“I am worried,” he said, quietly. “Very much so.”

“Then why the bleeding blazes have you been acting as though it doesn’t matter, or you aren’t bothered by it?” Crowley demanded, his arm waving animatedly in its gesticulation.

Aziraphale, surprisingly in the demon’s opinion, didn’t pause or falter. “Because I would be helping neither of us, but especially not you, if I were also to panic.”

“Panicking? Who says I’m panicking?” Crowley’s gesticulation was almost flailing at this point, mainly hampered by their closeness. “I’m not panicking, that’s absurd!”

“Of course not.”

“Why would I be panicking?”

“Because you’re understandably terrified of what they will do if they ever find out what we have done.”

“They will not merely send rude notes, that’s for bloody sure.”

“Destruction by rude note, that will certainly be novel.”

Aziraphale!”

The angel gave a small smile, which was warm but showing hints of both genuine worry and fear but also that inner core of steel. “I know how you’re feeling, dear. Honestly, I do. Don’t mistake me. But tell me…what other precautions can we take than what we are taking right now?”

He brought a hand up to caress a defined cheek gently, then cup the side of the jaw, thumb continuing to brush across the cheek. Crowley instinctively leaned into the contact, savouring it as he continued to look at his angel. He didn’t answer, though, because he had no answer to give. That was one of the problems, wasn’t it?

Silence reigned for a few long moments.

Then, very quietly “Would you want us to…divorce, for instance? Cease being nestmates?”

The words, the very _suggestion _that they would possibly stop being nestmates made Crowley snap for breath hard, his heart feeling as though it had just suffered an actual, physical punch. He would’ve shouted ‘no’ instantly and at the top of his lungs, if only he’d had the breath for it.

Aziraphale seemed to have been ready for the reaction, in a sense at least, as he made sure to steady his demon when his knees buckled a little.

Long-fingered hands came up to grasp hold of softened shoulders, hard and almost digging, as if that would somehow prevent him from leaving.

“No, I didn’t think so, either. Nor do I. As we’ve discussed before, I would never want to lose you as a nestmate. Apart from the option of returning to how we were, however – and even that is not a guarantee they won’t detect either of us are…divorced, as it were – I quite honestly cannot see what we can do about it.”

Crowley, still trying to get his breath back and stop the panic that had exploded inside, didn’t answer. He just moved somehow even closer and bent his neck so that he could rest his forehead against the angel’s shoulder, between his hand and where shoulder became neck.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the shape of his nestmate, as if to further ensure he wouldn’t go anywhere, no matter what happened.

“Please don’t leave,” Crowley said, his voice a little muffled from where his mouth was situated but nevertheless, it was insistent and Aziraphale heard him quite clearly.

“I won’t, dearest, I won’t. Never. I promise.” He turned his head and pressed his lips to the flaming red hair. “I hope you won’t, either.”

Crowley shook his head as though he was trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn wasp in his ear.

“In that light, I think all we can do is carry on as we always have and if things do turn south…then we’ll have to take it from there.”

Strictly speaking, they’d discussed that before as well but even so, it was a relief to the demon to have it confirmed.

Perhaps it was remnants of the unreality of it all, the sheer beauty and utter joy that went with their change in status and all that that had entailed for them, and the subsequent pure fear and dread that this was somehow indeed too good to be true. God could still be pulling the most massive prank on him.

What was it he’d read somewhere? “All this good fortune, all this fierce joy … it was wrong. Surely the universe could not allow this amount of happiness in one man, not without presenting a bill. Somewhere a big wave was cresting, and when it broke over his head it would wash everything away”?

Something along those lines, and didn’t it feel incredibly apt in the circumstances, even if he was a demon rather than a man?

Wait, hang on. Why could he remember something he’d _read_? When the heaven had he actually read, anyway? Maybe Aziraphale had read it aloud to him, as he sometimes did with books he truly loved and wanted to share. Crowley would never have his love of books, not even close to it, but he did enjoy the audiobook experience when it was tailored specifically to him by a very specific narrator.

So maybe it had come from there, a quiet evening where they just got to enjoy the other’s company.

Wherever it had come from, though, it had stuck and he couldn’t help but feel its aptness, perfectly summing up how he was feeling, even in the midst of his Paradise-on-Earth – which was infinitely better than the original, in his opinion, whose only benefit had been a fortunate meeting.

He tried not to let it take over his thoughts and, more importantly, not to let it show. Seeing as it tied into not only his fears and worries about the potential punishment from their headquarters but to all the negative and self-deprecating thoughts which he’d had prior to the two of them becoming nestmates about the impossibility of just that thing, it became a significantly more difficult prospect, even as he felt the relief from Aziraphale’s words.

The fact that he had his face hidden from view wasn’t much of a comfort.

But Aziraphale only held him tighter, turning his head to plant kisses on every part of Crowley’s head that he could reach, gently, lovingly. Being the anchor that he needed without saying a word.

Eventually, though he wouldn’t have thought he would, Crowley began to feel calmer. Not entirely so, the thoughts were still present, but in that silent interlude, he managed to…not so much push it into the background as pen it in and quieten it to a low murmur. Corral it into something manageable rather than outright banish it, helped by the words that Aziraphale had spoken and the reassuring calm that exuded from his body.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he straightened up. He didn’t try to otherwise put distance between them, though, and Aziraphale didn’t make him.

“No need to apologise. It’s a very legitimate fear to harbour.”

Crowley paused then came to a quick conclusion as he looked at the other’s face. “And you’re putting on a brave face for my sake.”

“I am not.”

“You are. That’s why you’re that calm about it.”

“I told you, I am not, neither that calm or putting on a brave face for you. I would not lie to you like that, dear.”

“You would.” It was an accusation, but it lacked any bite, the void of that filled with concern. “You would if you thought you were protecting me by doing it.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, presumably to protest, then closed it.

“Yes, I suppose that is a very valid point,” he said after a few but long moments of silence, voice quiet. “But I promise you that that was not my intention. I won’t hide from you, Crowley. Not anymore, not on purpose. I cannot control everything, but I will try and won’t put protection over honesty. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” That he could believe, that he could lean against to face things, to rely on as his rock. Well, as part of the rock that was his angel, really, when it came down to it. Softness, love and chub concealing a steel core. “Sorry about – “

He was silenced by a kiss. “Shush now. No need for that. Not now nor ever. I understand.”

Crowley regarded Aziraphale for a moment. Then, his heart full of warmth now, the murmur of his fears very low indeed, he said, earnest and heartfelt, looking into the warm green eyes, “I love you, angel. I love you.”

The beam he got from saying that out loud was one that beat every other iteration of Aziraphale’s arsenal of smiles, all of which were wonderful on their own, and still did a number on his heart in the best possible way. He hoped that would never ever change.

“I love you, too, my dearest,” Aziraphale returned. “Nothing will ever change that.”

Crowley touched their foreheads together after stealing another kiss, saying ‘thank you’ without speaking the words. It seemed to get through to the other just fine.

They stayed like that for quite some time and then Crowley decided that it was time for bed.

Aziraphale protested that it was far too early to go to bed, quite apart from the fact that neither of them needed to sleep. Crowley ignored him.

Sleeping was one of his favourite things in the world and now that he had the option to do so with his angel – and his fears about what Heaven and Hell was going to do to them had been soothed enough that he wasn’t a nervous ball too tense to fall asleep anymore – he wasn’t going to pass it up.

Well, he had up until now, in a sense, he would have to admit. But there’d been other things for him, for them, to do and to explore with their changed circumstances, apart from the worry about whole being found out business.

Six millennia is a long time to wait and, for Crowley’s part pine, and even if Aziraphale had only become aware of his feelings very recently, comparatively speaking, he’d assured the demon more than once that it was more a case of realising what had been there for a very long time, it crystallising inside his mind in that moment rather than being born.

Given that, this change was new and fragile and oh so precious to them both and they were handling it delicately in terms of what they’d done since, as though it would shatter if they charged ahead.

Perhaps that was what he’d meant when he’d thought that nothing had changed. They’d thrust themselves into this whole other plane, as it were, of being nestmates rather than ‘only’ friends all at once. That was enough of a change to settle into, especially for being who could well regard a century ago as recent. There was no need for a radical change in behaviour or routines on top of that, not straight away, and so it felt safer, perhaps, to take it slowly.

There might be someone who’d point out that a lot of what they’d done, how they’d interacted for the last millennia or so, at least, could qualify on their own as dating and so it would only make sense that things might not feel that different, if different at all.

Nesting and consequently becoming nestmates were on quite another level compared to human dating, however, even if it wasn’t immediately visible by the standards that humans set for themselves. But Aziraphale and Crowley knew that it was there, and it resonated between them like the echoes of…well, the harp that the angels didn’t play.

Not to mention, of course, the little things, such as the touches, including kisses, and the general closeness and openness they now enjoyed. Being more explicit about the little gestures and tokens of love that they had hid from each other before.

And there were the feathers. In the bookshop, yes, on display but hidden so that they wouldn’t be inadvertently snatched by some customer Aziraphale somehow hadn’t managed to keep out of the shop, which would just be…no, that didn’t bear thinking about, either.

But there were also the ones that they carried with them. Which ought to be beyond stupid to do if they wanted to remain hidden if not for the fact that other angels, fallen or otherwise, would be able to detect the bond, for lack of a better term, they now had regardless.

And it was wonderful, Crowley had to admit, to be able to be parted from Aziraphale – and they were not joined at the hip, thank someone for that, and they never would be, however much they cherished the other’s company – and still carry a physical reminder of him that was part of him. It certainly beat what humans came up with, such as jewellery out of teeth and hair. Just…why?

Now, though…now he couldn’t help the want, the need for a bit of sleep and to have Aziraphale be there with him. Not for anything intimate or the like, just…being there.

The angel kept protesting all the way up the stairs to the small…well, to call it a flat was a tad overly generous, really, seeing as it was actually just a small set of rooms that had come with the building back when Aziraphale had bought it. What they had been intended for wasn’t clear, but it had been used for extra storage by the blond. That was, until Crowley had seen it one day after, well, and had miracled a bed up there.

Aziraphale had protested then, too, that there was no need for it, and it would only be in the way and where on earth did all his books go, really, Crowley, you can’t just –

And he’d shut up when the demon had pointed upwards to see the books neatly stacked all the way around the wall and underneath the ceiling. That he’d have to employ a bit of, well, trickery, to make more room than there actually was, it was certainly worth it.

He’d used it once or twice on his own since then, the smell of old books practically part of his nasal make-up at that point, but now he got to experience it with Aziraphale there.

The angel protested one more time when they made it up the stairs, though Crowley noted that he hadn’t made any proper attempts to pull out of his grasp or just stop.

“Crowley, this is ridiculous,” he tried, sounding only slightly exasperated. “We cannot go to bed at this hour, there are things I need to do. I’m not going to waste time – “

The demon looked at him, then, and his expression shut the angel up.

“I’m not asking you to stay for a long time or anything,” Crowley said, voice quiet. “I just want you to be there while I fall asleep, that’s all. I’d like to know what it feels like.” He couldn’t deny that ‘waste time’ had hurt, just a little, even though he knew Aziraphale hadn’t meant it like that.

The guilty expression had already started to form as he closed his mouth and realised what he’d said, but now it took over the soft face. “Oh. When you put it like that, then…”

He hesitated, then bit his lip. “Oh, good lord, I am an arse, aren’t I? I didn’t even think of that and I should’ve known – of course I’ll stay with you, dear.”

Crowley frowned. “You’re not an arse.” It was hardly his fault Crowley hadn’t made himself clear or that it hurt to hear him phrase it like he had, done entirely unintentionally.

“I’m afraid I am. I should’ve known better, in both regards, and I do apologise.” He squeezed the hand gripping his. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

Part of Crowley wanted to say, ‘there’s nothing to make up for’, while another wanted to ask how he would, and a third, albeit small part, wanted to make a smart-arse comment.

Instead, for once, his brain and body were clever enough to make him purely give a nod.

The apologetic but grateful smile from Aziraphale started to melt what little hurt was left.


	2. Bedroom Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping in a bed together (just sleeping) should be the easiest thing, shouldn't it? Not quite if you're supernatural beings who have to navigate this utterly new territory between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so touched and grateful for the feedback on this, too, guys, you are incredible and I can't thank you enough. I'm sorry this took a fortnight to get out, though, it wasn't the intention.

So it was the angel who ended up tugging the demon into the room and guided him onto the bed, which really shouldn’t be able to fit in, either, what with its good size and all but well, when you’re already fiddling with reality, why shouldn’t you at least do a proper job of it?

Once Crowley was sitting down, Aziraphale paused.

“How do you…how would you like this to go?” he asked, and Crowley almost laughed.

It sounded as though he was asking for something entirely more intimate than just sharing a bed and the funny part was that Aziraphale would likely be utterly unaware of the fact. But Crowley didn’t laugh because he understood the reason for the question – and he didn’t want to be misunderstood, either. They’d had more than enough of that already, hadn’t they?

So, instead, he quirked his lips in a small smile. “Whatever way you’re comfortable with, angel. Didn’t really have anything planned, just wanted to have you be there next to me.”

There was a light frown on Aziraphale’s forehead at that. “But surely, you would need more than me just sitting beside you while you sleep.”

In the back of his mind, Crowley couldn’t help but notice he didn’t say ‘until you fall asleep’, despite the ginger having given him that option quite explicitly.

The rest of him focused on answering. “If that’s what you’re – “he began but he was interrupted.

“No, not what I’m comfortable with, Crowley. This isn’t about me.”

Crowley opened his mouth to protest that it bloody well was, but then Aziraphale continued. “It’s about both of us but mainly it’s about you. You’re the one who sleeps, who has the experience and know what helps.”

He thought – did he think that it was because Crowley needed help sleeping? The demon who’d slept his way through most of a century would need help to sleep?

_Perhaps he thinks that with all that has gone before and what you’ve just discussed, you might not particularly want to sleep on your own right now._

He…couldn’t really argue with that, could he? It was a fair point even if it was mainly speculation.

Well, there was a way to make it less than speculation.

“Angel, you – do you think that I want you here because I need you? No, not like that. I meant, that I need someone to be beside me to feel safe enough to sleep and no other reason?”

Aziraphale didn’t immediately answer which was something of an answer on its own.

“Well…yes,” he admitted. “It’s not as though you’ve…not in the time we’ve…”

“I haven’t exactly been sleeping much if at all in that time.”

He only realised that could be construed as confirmation after the words had left his mouth, and so, cursing himself a little, he hastened to add, “Doesn’t mean that that’s the reason I want you here. I just want you here, sharing a bed, because, well, like I said, I very much want to know what it feels like to have you next to me when I sleep. It’s not a case of need, it’s a case of want, okay?”

Crowley hoped that the unspoken ‘it’s not an obligation, just a wish’ was nevertheless heard.

Aziraphale blinked, his mouth a little ‘o’ of understanding.

“Oh. Well, that’s…” He trailed off and didn’t look as if he would say anything more, though.

Crowley looked at him for a moment, head tilted a little. Then, with the thought that he would be needing that nap regardless, he started to shrug out of his jacket. It would be easier to just miracle it off, if he didn’t want to sleep in it, but he somehow didn’t think that him suddenly sitting in his underwear, possibly with a t-shirt too, would go down so well with Aziraphale, mostly because of the…well, shock to the system, as it were.

He laid it down carefully on top of a stack of books.

When he got to his shirt, though, a plump hand stopped him after the first few buttons.

He looked up into green, worried eyes.

“What is it? Would you – should I keep it on?”

“What? Oh. No. Not – well, that’s entirely up to you.”

“Everything can’t be up to me, you know. That’s hardly fair.” A small pause then a deep sigh. “I shouldn’t have dragged you up here.”

The other hand went swiftly to his cheek. “You did not drag me. I am just – I admit I’m a bit out of my depth on what the protocol is on all this and – “

“Protocol? There’s no protocol.”

Aziraphale huffed a breath and his nose wrinkled ever so slightly. “Of course, there is. There always is with such things. If nothing else, then what you would want.”

“I said. Whatever it takes to have you be in the bed at the same time as – “

He didn’t get time to finish his sentence. Or rather, he cut himself off, unintentionally, his attention diverted quite thoroughly.

It was diverted by Aziraphale straightening up in one go and, at the same time, starting to undo his bowtie, which came off with an annoying speed and ease, considering that he likely wouldn’t have had it off for a century or something like that. Then he started to unbutton his shirt from the top, despite the obvious fact that it would make more sense to start at the waistcoat first.

This flashed by in Crowley’s mind rather fast, the main part of his brain stuck on the fact that Aziraphale was, as far as he could tell, in the process of undressing for him.

Likely that was because he was mimicking what Crowley had been doing before he’d stopped him and he wasn’t aware of the possible implications of that in a _bedroom_ but still, the poor ginger’s mind boggled a little. More than a little.

“Angel…you don’t have to…”

“I know. You’ve said, dear,” Aziraphale said, an apology in his tone and in his smile as his hands stilled momentarily. “But I want to. It sounds nice. No,” he amended, “pardon me. It sounds wonderful and I would love to.”

And with that, he started unbuttoning again. Crowley stared for a moment, then scrambled to undo the buttons on his own shirt, flinging it off once open. He toed off his shoes quickly then halted when he got to his jeans. Would that be going too far? But sleeping in his jeans…well, he might as well have stayed fully clothed, then.

In his focus to get his own kit off, he hadn’t paid too much attention to the angel, which might be just as well. If he had, he might have gotten stuck halfway through opening the shirt.

There was a vest underneath the waistcoat and shirt, because of course there was. Even so, to see Aziraphale standing in front of him in nothing but his trousers and his vest, his bowtie, shirt and waistcoat all lying neatly over one arm while the jacket hung carefully from a finger, undoubtedly so nothing would be damaged, that was…quite more of a sight than he’d expected.

Not that he didn’t like it. Quite the opposite, and that was sort of the problem.

He licked his lips once before he could stop himself. Then he managed to pull himself together and say, “Ehm, what about trousers?”

“What about them?” It seemed a genuine question, as though Aziraphale didn’t understand what he was being asked.

“Do you want them on or off?” Well, that came out more suggestive than he’d intended but thankfully, he couldn’t see any real indication that Aziraphale had caught onto that. Better not risk it by elaborating, though.

“For sleeping? Well, I would think it would be better to have them off, in case of creases.”

Creases? Of all things, _creases_?

“Yeah, definitely,” Crowley said, somehow managing to sound completely normal. He decided not to press on whether Aziraphale meant only his own or Crowley’s as well. Taking a deep breath through his nose and then another, he achieved some genuine calm as he then wiggled out of his jeans.

He didn’t clock that green eyes watched him do it. All he noticed when he looked back up from his task was that Aziraphale was now sans trousers – he vaguely noted everything was neatly folded on a new, small table, the feathers lying delicately on top in a protective gossamer-fine sleeve that would undoubtedly be impossible to damage – but in underwear that managed to not only cover him halfway down the thigh but look comfortable without looking baggy or otherwise silly.

In fact, at that sight, Crowley had to take another deep breath to calm himself down.

His angel really was stunning, from head to toe and inside out. But the fact that he hadn’t seen Aziraphale, normally wrapped in so many layers and covered – he had over the years missed just the sight of a bare arm or exposed throat as the angel only seemed to gain in layers as the centuries rolled on – in this little clothing before was…well, it was all he could do not to just stare and stare, with eyes as wide as the proverbial saucers, not sure he would he would ever be able to drink his fill.

He’d taken his sunglasses off without consciously noticing it and had dumped them on top of the jacket on the bookstack. Or at least somewhere in the vicinity thereof. He could miracle some new ones on.

But he had to focus somewhere else, if only because he honestly did feel like he needed some sleep, after everything, and he needed to collect himself a little more. Which was not possible if he kept looking, that was for certain.

He scooted backwards up the bed quickly and then wiggled down beneath the covers, his gaze directed down at the bed and then the covers. Aziraphale remained where he was, seemingly at loose ends as to what he ought to do now.

The short break had allowed Crowley to regain some composure again but so as not to risk it before he was absolutely certain, he didn’t look anywhere near Aziraphale.

However, that only lasted until the angel asked, quietly, “Crowley, did…did I do something wrong?”

Wait, what?

His head snapped back up, entirely on its own, to look at the other.

“What? No!” he exclaimed, eyes wide, eyebrows drawn together and mouth open. “No, not at all. Why do you even say that?”

“Because you wouldn’t look at me,” Aziraphale explained, frowning a little himself but in a way that denoted sadness rather than anger. He waved a hand down over himself. “I thought…I thought that this was how you were supposed to do it but now you look as though you would rather – “

“Stop right there,” Crowley interrupted, his incredulity and slight indignation warring with internal cursing at himself as he almost glared at the blond, who looked right back at him. “I ‘would not rather’ anything. I just…”

Well, he might as well get it out there rather than lie or evade. Experience would seem to suggest that worked out better for him, however much it hurt. Even so, it wasn’t easy to keep his gaze from flickering, though that was as much out of embarrassment as anything.

“I just wasn’t prepared, that’s all,” he said, his voice lowered.

“Prepared? For what, dear?” The sadness in the voice and face had been replaced, almost fully, with concern and warmth. Aziraphale sat himself down on the bed, on the edge right beside the demon, keeping eye contact.

“For you. In so…little, I mean.” He waved a hand to indicate what he meant. “It’s, ah, it’s a really good look on you, though. Incredibly good.” He licked his lips unconsciously.

Earnestness pushed embarrassment aside for the moment as he complimented the other. That was easy, somehow, and something of a balm to his mind, too, in that he could now say, openly, the things that he’d noticed, contemplated and then studiously kept inside his mind before, sometimes having to bite on his tongue to achieve it.

This was one area where he wasn’t careful or tentative in his approach; his angel deserved so many more compliments. Crowley could never hope to make up for the thousands of years that he’d held his tongue, certain it wouldn’t be welcome, but he would try his bloody best, regardless.

When the words registered, Aziraphale’s eyes widened a little. Then colour started to steal over his cheeks rapidly. He did not, however, try to deny or dismiss the compliment. Thankfully.

“Well, now…that’s…” He smiled a small, pleased, touched smile, his eyes flickering down momentarily. A beat, then another. “Thank you.”

Crowley couldn’t help but smile in turn even as he blinked in the ray that was Aziraphale’s smiles. Then he yawned huge and wide and quite unbidden, which was odd, not to mention ludicrous.

Aziraphale’s smile widened a little. “I think, dear, that we had better get you tucked in.”

“I don’t need ‘tucking in’, I’m not a child,” Crowley protested as he cut another yawn short, more than a little indignant at the suggestion. “And you don’t sleep, why do you even know that expression?”

“I do have ears, you know, and I have been on this earth for a while,” Aziraphale replied, the primness ruined by the continued warmth in his eyes.

That warmth turned speculative for a moment. Then Crowley nearly swallowed his tongue – it might be impossible for humans to actually swallow and choke on their own tongue but none of them had a tongue with qualities quite like his, did they? – as the angel rose and turned around in the same movement, crawling up on the bed and over Crowley to get to the other side of him. Something the demon hadn’t at all considered when he’d moved up onto the bed proper but which he definitely should have.

“Aziraphale!” he protested, more out of startled surprise than anything.

The angel was now on the other side, under the covers instead of on top of them, at least, sitting as though he’d made himself ready for high tea rather than sitting in his underwear beside a demon in a similar state of undress. And all they were going to do was sleep.

Not that Crowley had any designs in that regard. Well, perhaps he did have a…thought or two in that direction, but it wasn’t something for now or the foreseeable future. Slow was perfect. Slow kept things from shattering. Even if it never happened, that would be fine, too.

It didn’t need to for him to have everything he wanted.

That didn’t mean he was averse, of course, or that he didn’t appreciate getting to appreciate the view, as it were, and, well, the sudden closeness had shattered whatever little measure of composure he had managed to gain and hold onto.

The blond frowned. “Crowley, I am trying to do the right thing in the circumstances you’ve given me, but you do – “

“Not that! You crawled over me.”

“…Yes? How else do you propose I should get to this side of the bed when you took the outside?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you could’ve asked me to move my legs!”

A pause where Aziraphale blinked once, twice. “Oh. Yes, of course. I didn’t think of that. Of course, I should have thought of that. My apologies.”

…Buggering blasting fuck, would he ever learn to clam his mouth shut when it really shouldn’t talk?

He reached out and grabbed hold of the plump hand that had begun to pull a little at the sheet underneath it, interlacing his fingers with the angel’s.

“No, you weren’t in the wrong at all. I should be the one to apologise,” he said.

“You apologise too much as it is,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath and it was evident that he didn’t intend for Crowley to hear so he pretended that he hadn’t.

Instead, he turned over onto his side. It unfortunately meant he had to disentangle their fingers to lean on that arm instead as the hand propped up his chin.

The movement made the pendant he’d had around his neck in a chain swing back and forth before it settled against his chest.

Technically speaking, it was probably too large to be called a pendant, though on the other hand, that never seemed to have stopped any human. In any case, he didn’t care whether it was or not. It could be the size of a bleeding sundial and he would’ve logged it around with him with joy.

The thing was, the pendant was entirely transparent because what mattered what not so much the pendant on its own but rather its role in protecting its cargo. It was also made of entirely clear quartz crystal of high quality for that very same reason, as he’d feared that glass would prove far too fragile.

Inside was the feather he had chosen from Aziraphale’s wing after some more prodding. It wasn’t so much that he had needed more convincing, it was more a case of needing a bit of time to deliberate. Because whatever Aziraphale said, there would be symbolism to tangle with whichever feather he picked, and even if the only ones who would ever see them would be the two of them, he wanted to give off the right signal.

So, he had chosen not just one but two feathers, a pair of coverts, though one of them was a primary covert and one was a secondary. Aziraphale had smiled at that but he had also looked a little odd and sad. So Crowley had explained that well, yeah, of course there was the symbolism of a pair of coverts, but it was more, and there he had coloured just a little, that it was the two of them together, different and yet the same, hence a primary and secondary – and had nothing to do with one being lesser – and the angel hadn’t argued with that, his expression turned loving.

Crowley had intended to keep it even by plucking one from each wing, but Aziraphale had insisted that he take from the same wing, which…well, made its own kind of sense and symbolism.

Now they nestled against his chest, encased in their crystal prison and safe from any possible damage, well, of the everyday, non-supernatural sort, at least. Each time he felt it move against his skin, he felt internal warmth that had nothing to do with Hell.

There was very little decoration to the rest of the pendant. He had considered doing something more elaborate – Aziraphale had suggested a jeweller to do such an skill-based, delicate job, but Crowley did not want anyone else touching the feathers, even encased as they were – but thought that it would detract from what was important about the pendant and he did not want that.

Aziraphale saw it dangle gently, his gaze drawn to it as the chain clinked and settled and his whole face lit up. He had seen it before, of course, not least when Crowley had made it and showed it off, but one can be just as amazed and touched by something on subsequent views as one was initially. Now he focused on it, reaching out to carefully touch it, as though it would break if he was even the slightest bit rough.

Crowley let him.

The angel then slid his fingers up to grasp at the chain and Crowley ducked his head as best he could in his current position so it would come off easier.

Once it was off, Aziraphale moved and stretched, the process watched by the still reclining demon with appreciative eyes, to place it on top of Crowley’s clothes, being as careful then as he’d been earlier.

“I could’ve left it on, you know,” Crowley commented as the angel settled back against the headboard. “I won’t damage them. That was sort of the point of the whole crystal thing.”

“Oh, I know that. That wasn’t _my_ point.”

“What was your point then?”

“That it might get uncomfortable to have on you when trying to sleep.”

“It’s not as though I haven’t been sleeping in uncomfortable places before.” Not because he needed to sleep but even when you could choose whether you slept or not, humanity had relatively speaking been sleeping rough until very recently.

“Perhaps so. I, on the other hand, have not.”

Crowley frowned at him. Then it clicked.

“But you – you said you’d just be sitting there.” It wasn’t meant to be accusatory and he didn’t think that it came out that way. He hoped, anyway, because he was more than fine with having just that. When he had said he wanted Aziraphale there, he’d meant it.

“As I recall, dear,” Aziraphale said, with a smile that had just the edge of impishness to it, so faint that Crowley was almost certain it was a trick of the light, “you were the one who said that, not me. The most you can accuse me of is not contradicting you.”

“But you’ve never – I thought you wouldn’t be comfortable with it.”

The impishness left the smile instantly and was replaced with kind concern.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said, his head tilting in the way that it did when his kindness shone through. “I am sorry. We really do keep missing each other, don’t we? Communications-wise, I mean.”

“I…yeah, I suppose we do. What did you have – “

He didn’t finish his sentence because his focus was hijacked by Aziraphale laying down himself and, far more importantly, scooting himself over to Crowley. There was a moment where the ginger didn’t really know where the other intended to go or what he himself should do.

Then a hand came up to cradle the back of his neck where it became skull and guided him towards the blond. He put up no resistance to it and found his head guided to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder, cheek against it. As soon as it came to rest, he found the remainder of his body following suit, moving up right close.

He didn’t wrap himself around the other, though, still uncertain of just how much would be welcome and not wanting to go too fast or do the wrong thing.

Then he felt the angel’s head turn slightly and felt lips press against the shell of his ear. It was just a small peck, really, but the tenderness of it did something complicated but light to his heart.

This time, instead of waiting for Aziraphale to move and thereby say it was okay, Crowley took a breath and made a decision on his own, taking the small risk; he moved his arm up and around to hug the soft waist of his love, hand splaying out on his back. One leg he slid between the two thicker ones and the other arm he slid underneath the other, that hand carding itself into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. That had quickly become one of his favourite things to touch and so he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to do so.

Aziraphale hummed at that, a pleased little noise that oddly enough reverberated through the other. Not that Crowley could find it in himself to complain, far from it.

Good…opposition, that felt good. If he had thought sleeping was pleasant before, having not merely a body but that of his angel to rest on, feel his softness and his warmth surround him beneath the covers, being able to turn his head and breathe the scent of him in…

He would be hard pressed to be able to top that in terms of sleeping arrangements and for a moment worried that from now on, he would struggle to find rest on his own.

Even as he thought that, though, he could feel sleep starting to drag him down, the pure comfort and love surrounding him sending him down with a speed that he hadn’t anticipated.

He couldn’t bring himself to care, though. This was good…so good…oh, _yes…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got away from me, in terms of direction as well as length. I'm sorry. We will get somewhere, I promise. That said, I liked writing the whole getting their kits off, even if it wasn't remotely alluring.  
Oh, and because I forgot in the first chapter - the quote is from "Thud!" by Terry Pratchett. It did feel apt to me in more ways than one and I like the thought of Aziraphale reading aloud to Crowley (psst - Michael Sheen's done audiobooks).  
I feel like I've missed some tags but for the life of me I can't think of them. I'll do my best to get the next chapter out sooner.


	3. Something with the wing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wakes up next to Aziraphale. Nothing could be better, right? But then Aziraphale gives a moan, one that doesn't sound good, and Crowley is instantly back to worrying and fearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean to take a fortnight to get this out. Things...have been a bit of jumble here, in many ways, and to be honest, I'm impressed I got anything out today as well. I'm doing my best, I promise.  
Thank you to everyone who's left feedback and especially the comments, they've just been the best! <3

When he woke, he had that peculiar feeling you get when at the same time you feel as though you’ve only closed your eyes for two minutes and have been down in the furthest depths of sleep for months. He had more of what you might call a hands-on experience of the latter than humans could manage but even so, it was quite disorientating, not least because the rise back up to awake was a painfully steep one.

He blinked despite himself, his vision still bleary, as he still wanted very much to return to sleep. It had been quite extraordinarily comfortable, more so than he could remember experiencing for at least a few decades, and he wondered a little muzzily why that was the case.

Then it registered that he wasn’t alone in bed and for a moment, his mind went through a panicked inventory of who he’d successfully tempted into sinning with him. When his mind kicked back in enough to inform of reality, he heaved a sigh of relief and utter joy, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the softness beneath him.

But why had he woken? Despite the swift rise, he did not in any way feel refreshed or even prepared for being awake.

For a moment, he listened out for anything that could have alerted him something was amiss. There was nothing, though, not even with his heightened senses.

Satisfied, he settled back more firmly into the body he was halfway lying across, in a sense borrowing into it, ready to sink back down beneath the cotton-soft waves of sleep.

Then something shifted, and there was a moan. It wasn’t a moan of pleasure, either, and suddenly Crowley was awake and alert, all in one go, sitting upright in one quick movement. Actually, he was as scared as he was alert, certain that Heaven had somehow managed to enact some kind of vengeance through sneaky means.

“Angel?” he called, his voice worried and just a little bit frantic. “What’s wrong? Aziraphale, come on, answer me!”

He didn’t clock the fact that he was not giving the other any chance to answer.

Another moan was his answer, which didn’t help at all.

“Aziraphale!” Snapping his fingers to get some light in there, his eyes scanned the entirety of the body beneath him to see if there was any clearer indication. “For someone’s sake, answer me!”

Something grabbed at his arm and he almost jerked away before he registered that it was Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m here,” came the familiar voice and it sounded far groggier than it did pained. That didn’t necessarily reassure the demon.

“That’s not what I – what’s the matter? Did they do something?”

“Do something? Who did?” Aziraphale asked, his expression as groggy as his voice.

“You know who I mean. Upstairs!” Crowley hissed, not in the mood. “What did they do?”

The panic and the fear that he had managed to push away before they’d come up here had come rushing back into his mind and he couldn’t help blessing himself for allowing himself to fall asleep. It was too dangerous to be asleep, to not be alert and ready at all times for what those bastards would cook up for them.

Himself he could deal with but the thought that he might cause Aziraphale anguish, or worse, if upstairs, or downstairs, for that matter, found out about what they’d done…that thought was unbearable, and that was putting it incredibly mildly.

He didn’t realise he was breathing rapidly and shallowly, his eyes darting all over the shape of the blond again, trying to find something he might have missed the first time around.

Nor did he hear that Aziraphale was calling his name. Not until he was grabbed by the shoulder and almost shaken.

“Crowley, I’m alright,” the angel said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m alright, I promise. Nothing’s the matter.”

“Clearly something is because you moaned.”

“I did not.”

“You did, I heard you! You did it twice and they were both pained ones. I thought – “He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat at that. “I thought that they’d found a way to get to you – “

“While you were asleep,” Aziraphale finished for him, his expression changing to one of concern and caring. “Oh, my dear, I am sorry. I didn’t think and I should have. Thank you very much for worrying but I assure you that I am alright.”

“Then why did you sound like you were in pain?”

“Did I?”

“No, I just like saying it to make myself sound like an idiot,” Crowley said, and he couldn’t help the snap in his voice, born of his fear.

He then noticed something that he hadn’t clocked before. Which, to be perfectly blunt, he had no idea whatsoever how he hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t as though it was something that he normally sported, nor had he gone to bed with it.

Aziraphale’s wings were out. They were tucked together but even so, they were quite large and to lie on top of them, or even halfway so as the angel was, that had to hurt.

A whole pack of thoughts shot out of their starting gates inside Crowley’s mind at that, tearing across the track. Why hadn’t he spotted that previously? They were hardly inconspicuous, were they? He’d even turned on some light to better be able to see and yet he had completely failed to see them. How?

Apart from that, why were they out in the first place? Why was he lying on them? How had _he _apparently not noticed that he was in fact lying on them? Was that why he had moaned in pain? Had they only just manifested? But why?

Was it that they’d manifested because he had fallen asleep and had therefore unintentionally slackened his grip? Was that a thing? Crowley couldn’t remember that happening to him but then again, it had been a very long time since he’d tried sleeping for the first time. It seemed unlikely; he knew he would’ve have remembered the outcome of that had any humans spotted them.

Had Heaven done something that would cause his wings to come out on their own? Could they do that? Was there something else going on?

He didn’t realise he’d reached a hand forward until it made unexpected contact with the tip of one of the wings. Once he did realise, though, he pulled away immediately, worried that he was putting it in more pain by possible pressure. Worried that he would alert something somehow.

Aziraphale must’ve read some of his questions on his face or at least sensed his worry and bewilderment because he stared back up at him for a moment in confusion then turned his head to follow Crowley’s gaze. Then his eyes widened, and his mouth opened a little in surprise.

“Oh.”

“Oh? What the Heaven do you mean, ‘oh’? How have you not noticed them before now? What have they done?”

“Done?”

“You know who I mean. Tell me.”

“Crowley, as I said – “

“Your wings are out; you haven’t noticed until now and they’re obviously hurting you. You – you cannot expect me – “

He knew he sounded panicked. Perhaps even a little frantic. It was pathetic, it really was, but he couldn’t help it. The mere thought that Heaven was capable of messing with his angel that way –

Aziraphale sat up in one go and the evident flinch of pain as he moved did nothing to help the fear clamouring inside Crowley’s mind and he let out a small, suppressed noise of…_something_ of his own.

Then the angel reached swiftly out and down, grabbed hold of the ginger’s hand and brought it back up to his wing.

“Feel it,” he said as he pressed it against the appendage.

Crowley tried to pull his hand back immediately but Aziraphale held fast. His expression, however, was soft and understanding even as the hint of steel could be detected.

“Feel it,” he repeated. “I admit, they do hurt, but go on. Feel for yourself that nothing is wrong.”

“Angel…”

He got a kiss, a slow, sweet and tender one, which he returned with gusto.

“Please, dear,” Aziraphale whispered when they pulled apart again, having relinquished Crowley’s hand at some point. “I can’t bear to see that expression on your face, however much I understand why it’s there, so if it’ll help you even a little bit, please touch them as much as you need to.”

He paused then, after a moment, said, even quieter. “If it doesn’t help, I – we’ll think of something else.”

Though Crowley heard that last bit, his focus was honestly more on touching. He didn’t know whether it would help but now that he had permission, he needed to touch for himself, see what was wrong, if anything, and hopefully find a way in which he could fix it. No, not hopefully; he had to find a way, didn’t he?

Even so, just before he made contact, he hesitated, his hand frozen in front of the wing. “Are you really sure, angel?”

The blond hummed around a reassuring smile. “Positive, my dear. You won’t hurt me by touching it, so please. Go ahead.”

Aziraphale then actually moved his wing, carefully, so that it touched Crowley’s motionless hand, pressing into it in encouragement. One might not have credited it, that he had that much delicate control over it, given the size of it and the rarity with which the wings were…manifested, as it were. But that was forgetting that it was in fact an appendage like any other, with all the inherent control, not to mention one that went deeper than even hands when it came to angels. Wings were built-in in a way that feet or even hands were not. Some angels did not ever have feet, after all.

Once it made contact, Crowley’s hand spasmed for just a second, though the exact reason for it he couldn’t quite say. Then his fingers sank in, slowly, between the feathers and in to touch the bone and flesh itself. As it did, he kept an eye and an ear, keenly, on whether there was a strong reaction, or really any reaction at all, to it, ready to pull it back at a moment’s notice should anything occur.

Nothing did, except maybe a small intake of breath that Aziraphale assured, through a smile, really was nothing to worry about.

Crowley let his fingers sink in deeper, part of him thoroughly relishing this chance to feel the other’s wing in a way he had never yet gotten to.

Oh, when he’d snuck into the bookshop and everything had come out, as it were, there’d been a chance to see them. But that hadn’t been a proper chance to touch them, though that had been his own fault through hesitation as much as anything.

That and Aziraphale had seemed quite…overwhelmed by what little touching the ginger had done then. Not that Crowley had been in much of a better state, admittedly.

Between then and now, however…it had never come up between them again, for the same reason as before; it was new and it was fragile as well as precious and to just ask to see another’s wings, however close you were, that was…well…

Point was that neither had done so in the intervening time and so Crowley couldn’t help but relish the opportunity to do so for more than a moment or two. If it was up to him, he could spend a very long time just touching it.

He had to keep his mind on the job at hand, though. That was why he was touching the wing in the first place.

Carefully, he let his fingers travel through any point where there might have been enough damage done to cause that noise his angel had let out earlier. To not get distracted by his desire to just touch and explore, he tried his best to focus and so he missed the soft noises of contentment and pleasure coming from Aziraphale at his ministrations.

The longer he didn’t find anything of what he feared he would, the more he noticed something else about the feathers; they weren’t exactly broken but neither were they in a particularly good state.

He knew that angels weren’t as good at taking care of their wings as demons were – there would probably be someone who’d say that that was because demons were vain where angels were decidedly not. But even if that was the case, which Crowley had significant trouble believing, considering what he knew of angels, he would’ve thought that it would be more of a regular thing in Heaven to looking after such important and integral appendages as that.

If nothing else, then to be appealing to potential nestmates. After all, unless you miracled the feathers you used for either decorating nests or the reciprocation feathers, you were presented something of inferior quality, which had to be unacceptable for the sticklers in Heaven.

That taken into consideration, Aziraphale’s wings weren’t…well, they were slightly bad. More than slightly, to be honest. He didn’t remember them as such from when he’d last seen them, and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been paying attention to them at the time.

Just what had happened between then and now? Or perhaps – but no, just sleeping on them couldn’t do this. It could do a lot, he was sure, especially so considering that Aziraphale was not used to having to account for them, in particular not when he was asleep. But this…this looked messier than the ruffling they could’ve gotten while the angel slept.

It was only when an arm wrapped around his waist that he noticed he’d moved gradually closer as he’d worked his fingers down until he was practically kneeling between the other’s legs. The grip could be to steady him, of course, but as the hand had slid underneath his shirt and was tracing little nonsense patterns on his skin, he highly doubted that it was purely that.

That wasn’t to say he minded, not at all.

The moving closer wasn’t the only thing that he’d done without conscious thought; rather than only examining the wing for breakages or other indications of foul play, he had begun to straighten out and set right the feathers that were ruffled, misaligned or otherwise in a bad shape.

So far, as far as he could see, it was only a few feathers so far, but he had…he’d begun to groom Aziraphale’s feathers.

He snatched his hands – and when exactly had it become both his hands instead of just the one? – away as though holy water lurked beneath those feathers. In the process, he also sat himself back on his haunches, which, given that a hand was stuck beneath his sleep shirt, pulled Aziraphale with him, threatening to send them tumbling onto the bed or even over the edge of it.

The angel was quick, though, and managed to steady the two of them immediately, bringing them up into much the same position as before, apart from Crowley keeping his hands firmly at his sides.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Aziraphale asked, puzzled but evidently trying to understand as he looked at the ginger.

“I – ah, I didn’t mean to – “

He hadn’t! Oh, bloody shit, hadn’t he just thought about going slow to preserve what was so fragile and precious still? And then he went and threw that straight out of the window in one go and all because he wasn’t paying attention; he was letting his fear get the better of him – or was that just an excuse?

Aziraphale’s expression changed to one of understanding and sympathy but also just the slightest hint of exasperation.

“So…you mean to say that you started to groom my wing entirely subconsciously?” The question was posed without any inflection that Crowley could hear but that might have more to do with his own mind spluttering and panicking more than a little.

“No! I mean, yeah! I didn’t – “

“And when you consciously registered it, you immediately pulled away.” Now there was some inflection, but it wasn’t easy to discern, at least not to the ginger right then. It didn’t sound exactly positive, though.

“Yeah.”

“May I ask why you decided to do that, dear?”

The question was quiet, gentle and reasonable but even so, it hit Crowley in the face somewhat, bringing the fear that he had done wrong out even more.

“Why? Because that wasn’t what – and why aren’t you reacting, anyway?”

“Negatively, you mean?” A nod, barely perceptible but there. “Should I be?”

Was he…he couldn’t seriously be asking that, could he?

“Because I thought this was fragile!” he burst out and then, much like before, the push that had sent the first words spilling out created a snowballing effect and his tongue ran away with him. “I haven’t…you haven’t had your wings out since we, we became nestmates and when I touched them then, you reacted. So, I thought that you weren’t ready to have them touched yet but then you were in pain now and I just wanted to help but – “

“Then when you got the opportunity to touch them properly, you couldn’t help it?” The interruption was soft and the voice warm, but Crowley didn’t hear it.

“Yes!” Shit, no. “I mean – “

Aziraphale leaned forward and silenced him with a kiss.

“Oh, my dearest, we do need to work on your fear that you will automatically ruin things,” he said when he pulled back. “I am terribly sorry I left you in that belief, however, that was not my intention because it most certainly isn’t true.”

“What?” The word ended up coming out a little weakly, but that was mainly, if not entirely because he hadn’t been expecting what he’d heard.

“I…” A blush rose in soft cheeks but even so, Aziraphale reached out to grab hold of Crowley’s hands, dragging them back towards his wing. “I would very much like you to keep going.”

“With…with grooming?” He wanted to be sure he’d heard that right. Needed to be sure, actually.

Grooming wasn’t just some little thing, after all. Yes, to do it on your own wings was not unlike the rituals that humans engaged in when they wanted to spruce up and take care of themselves. It wasn’t quite like brushing your teeth or washing your hair, though it was selfcare. It was a rarer and deeper thing but still, it was something practical that needed to be done from time to time.

When it was done by someone _else, _however, that was an entirely different and far more intimate. It was a very intimate and personal part of the angel, after all; you did not touch another’s wing unless you were a nesting pair and grooming was consequently only done to someone else if they were your nestmate.

Even then, he’d known of couples who took a very long time to be able to trust the other enough to allow them to do it for them. Hastur and Ligur, for one, which had caused no end of grief to the demons around them at the time. There’d been a few he’d known before his Fall, too, but those he had greater trouble remembering.

It was the care that was also associated with the giving of feathers when a nesting was accepted. Wings and feathers were essential to them, to their flight, after all, even taking into account Heavenly angels greater disregard for their upkeep.

Granted, there was something to be said for them being nestmates. Some might argue that that was all that he needed to be allowed to do it, but Crowley wouldn’t agree. It was still, well, _intimate_, and he should most definitely have been far more aware of what he was doing, however well Aziraphale seemed to be taking it.

“Yes.” The answer was short but very firm. “If you don’t mind doing it, then I would love for you to continue.”

“Don’t mind – fuck’s sake, angel, I began to groom your feathers without permission!”

“You have always had my permission – “

“No, I haven’t, and even if I had, it can’t be implicit. Implicit is when it fucking well goes wrong!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended for this to be sweet and lovely, I honestly did (it'd make up for the short length of the chapter, at least to some extent), but...well, Crowley's fears sort of went walkabout on their own and helped write much of this, not that I asked them to. But I could hardly delete it, it didn't feel right, either. So...be patient a bit longer, yeah?


	4. Grooming the wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They work on sorting out the issue and lo and behold, actually get to the grooming. Which might get them somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so understanding and lovely and just wonderful. You make so much of a difference, I can't begin to tell you. <3

That and assumptions. The downright champion on that they’d both been, not to mention...well, best not to mention that, really, nor think about it at all.

Aziraphale, who had been trying to pull Crowley’s hands back to his wings and hadn’t succeeded yet, paused, a frown settling hard on his features as he evidently thought about what the demon had just said.

And though Crowley didn’t notice it, a glint of something sparked in those warm eyes and lay banked but glowing, dormant for the moment but ready to be dealt with at a later point, when his anger at whoever had caused this in his demon could be unleashed.

“That is a good point,” he conceded out loud after a long moment, looking concerned – which was the other half of the anger that he did allow out – as well as a little guilty. His grip on bony hands slackened but didn’t relinquish. “Will you then accept that I do not blame you for starting to groom them? That I, in fact, very much want you to?”

“Why haven’t you said anything before now, then? Why wait until I thought you were in pain and it then ran away from me?”

The look of guilt intensified. “I…well…” Aziraphale paused and then sighed. “I did not want to push it too far, either, judging by how you’ve behaved since then, quite apart from the fact that I am seemingly still something of a coward. A rather large something, at that.”

Crowley would’ve taken umbrage with the word ‘coward’ if not for the fact that a previous part of that sentence entirely stole his attention.

“How – how _I’ve _behaved?” he said, and he most definitely didn’t splutter. “What do you mean, ‘how I’ve behaved’?”

“Dearest, you’ve been nervous ever – “

“No, I haven’t,” Crowley protested, not realising he’d interrupted. “I’ve been scared of being found out by your side or mine and being destroyed for it, that’s not the same – and I didn’t want to go too fast for your sake as much as my own, because this feels so bloody fragile and I keep thinking that it will burst on me somehow. And – and you were the one who said I go too fast for you!”

He was shouting just slightly by the time he’d finished speaking and once again, his mouth had gotten the better of him. Mentally, he added to the bruises he had from previous kickings.

Aziraphale was silent for a worryingly long time or so it felt to Crowley. Then his wings drooped and seemed to curl in on him, though not in a way that shielded him. Somehow, they looked even worse than they had. His head hung, too, just a little.

“If you knew how often I’ve regretted those words,” he said, and his voice was so quiet Crowley had trouble hearing him. “I never should’ve – “

“You should.”

The blond head rose so fast it felt as though something should’ve snapped.

“No!” he exclaimed, and his voice was bordering on sharp. “No, I should not.”

“If that was how you felt at the time – “

“That does not make it any more alright. Nor that I didn’t understand all the implications of…or perhaps that’s merely a somewhat convenient…the point is that I should’ve said something to take it back far sooner than I have if I should’ve even said it. I should have made it right again.”

He grasped for a bony hand and cradled it between his own. Crowley suddenly felt as though his hand was what was made of sugar crystals.

“I do understand what you mean about this feeling fragile, though, dear, I really do. There are so many things that are new in all of this. I thought – thought that once the nesting was settled, it would be…” He trailed off, seemingly a little at a loss as to how to continue.

“Much as it’s always been?” Crowley supplied, unable to not say it. He’d unknowingly shifted himself closer still.

“No. Well, yes. Sort of, at least. I mean, we know each other. I certainly feel like you know me after all this time. We should know what to expect, how we’d react in a circumstance and yet…yet we seem to fumble and stumble as though we had never interacted before.”

He paused but Crowley resolutely didn’t speak, clamping his mouth shut to prevent himself from doing so. It didn’t feel as though the other was done and he’d be more damned than he already was if he messed things up _again_ by speaking when he shouldn’t.

A few moments later, he was proven right, in so far as not being done, when Aziraphale continued.

“Then again, I don’t suppose we can really compare this to before, not on a one-to-one basis, at least. There are so many new things. Things that we haven’t tried before or ones that we’ve…skirted across without really speaking about them. Which of course worked but at the same time…well, look where that got us.”

He smiled but it wasn’t exactly the most confident of smiles. It was gently hopeful, though, and the wings didn’t droop quite as badly as they had up until that point. They had also come out a little, not straightening but reaching out, not around the angel but rather towards the demon, as though they were an extra pair of hands that wanted to touch but didn’t care move too much from their position.

“Angel…” Crowley said, quietly.

To his consternation, he didn’t know what to say more than that or even if he should say anything at all at that point. He tried to shift the hand that was being held so gently so he could grasp Aziraphale’s, but each time he moved the hands moved with him, keeping the grip as it was.

As though he was something fragile. But he wasn’t _fragile._ He – he’d survived falling, hadn’t he? And almost six millennia on this planet, trying to do his job, coping with what humanity could be and do when it tried, outdoing the most devious of demons. Not to mention trying to cope with pining after and attempting to nest for an _angel, _a high-ranking one at that, who he had thought would never spare him a thought in that direction.

If he could go through that and come out whole…well, in one piece that might be somewhat glued together, at least, then he could –

Hang on, though – was Aziraphale actually saying that he was fragile? And if he was, did ‘fragile’ then necessarily equal ‘weak’?

In a dictionary definition it might do but in the given context, no, he didn’t think so. Not from Aziraphale, when he thought about it properly.

Why then did he feel the need to keep holding Crowley’s hand like that?

He could always ask, of course. Wasn’t that what they’d just been discussing?

First, though, he tried one more time to change his grip and when that failed, he tried to pull it away, which was completely pointless as it yielded the same result.

“Aziraphale, I – it’s not going to break.”

Well, that didn’t come out quite right. Not as a question, anyway, but perhaps it could still work. He hoped so.

He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, as much as he could.

“No, I know that.”

“Then why do you keep holding it as if it is?” Well, that was a question. Not exactly the important one, either, but he could work up from that.

“Not…no, I…that wasn’t what I wanted it to say. I do – “

“No more apologies,” Crowley interrupted, gently but very firmly and despite his fear of screwing things up, he felt in this very depth of his being that that was a crucial point to get across. As was what he said next. “We talk about it instead of apologising for it.”

In light of all his worries, his fears and thoughts about how he screwed up and all of the rest of it, such a decisive comment might seem a little incongruous. He wasn’t entirely sure where it had come from, either, but it had popped into his head, clearly and strongly as though it had come from somewhere else, and once it had, it had felt not only right but essential.

“Crowley, we can’t – there are things that need – “

“And then we’ll talk about them. Isn’t that what you just said?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, but that doesn’t…apologies do have their uses.”

“Yeah, ‘course, but not when it’s…look, I know it’s not as though I don’t apologise and for things that you tell me I shouldn’t. I know I do. That’s my point, really. What solves things isn’t the apology. Not on its own. It’s the talking about it all and not making assumptions.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

“I know I’ve just done that, too, and it’s not…fuck, I’m not ready for all of this yet.”

“We can always go back – “

“Not you. Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. I didn’t mean you. Or this, us. I just…” He felt his new-found confidence ebb again but held onto what he could, which admittedly wasn’t all that much. “I want to get it right, angel, in every aspect I can, and I don’t know how I should do it. It hasn’t changed at all and at the same time, everything is upside down and I…I just want to be nestmates. Want to be close to you in any way I can.”

“Oh, Crowley.”

The demon shuffled even closer at the same time as the angel reached out and somehow, they ended up in a hug where they more or less clung to each other. They didn’t speak, just needing some silent solace

When Crowley lifted his head after what felt like ages, he couldn’t help smiling.

“Think we’ll ever get this right?” he murmured, the absurdity of the situation hitting him just a little.

Thankfully, it seemed that Aziraphale understood.

“We can but try,” he replied, the look in his eyes warm and loving, and brushed an errand lock of red hair out of Crowley’s forehead slowly and carefully, as though he was moving a child over to a safe spot.

They stayed silent and close for another long while, basking in each other’s company and for Crowley’s part, digesting or trying to digest what they’d just been discussing.

His arms were around the softer body and apparently his hand had at some point in his mental absence taken that as leave to pick up where it had left off.

This time, though, he caught it before it touched anything it shouldn’t.

But…he’d been told it was alright, though, hadn’t he? Explicitly. More than once, even, and he couldn’t deny that he wanted to touch. Not purely to check whether everything was alright, either, of course, just because he wanted to. To touch them, yes, but more importantly, he wanted to groom them.

Honestly, he’d want to groom them regardless of what state they were in but with them in the state that they were, needing to be looked after both in terms of possible pain and their general condition, he almost felt that he needed to.

He let his hand venture down again, slowly as much for as his own sake as to give Aziraphale a chance to stop him. Just before he reached where wing impossibly met human skin, he hesitated.

Aziraphale hummed what had to be an encouragement and moved his wing upwards. It was mainly felt further out with the latter half and particularly the tips. But even at the root, as it were, it was possible to see the movement.

Wetting his lips, Crowley bridged that last bit and not only touched but in fact lightly grasped the start of the appendage.

That earned him a gasp but before he could pull back again, Aziraphale shifted up into his grasp, employing the arms still around Crowley to simultaneously help him shift and stop the demon pulling away.

Fingers slid between feathers, moving almost as one might gently caress the fur of a pet. It wasn’t done entirely consciously but it had the effect of loosening the tense muscles that were there. That tenseness sent another spasm of worry through Crowley but thankfully his brain piped in to inform him that it just might as well be mere tense muscles with nothing else going on.

He moved his hand up to the top edge of the wing, massaging gently as he did so. Another, deeper hum of contentment was his reward and he dug his fingers a little deeper. Not hard, just enough to almost grip the appendage as he slid his hand upward.

This wasn’t the ideal position to reach the back of the wing like this but as it was, he could only reach so much effectively.

Not that it mattered at that precise moment. He wanted to groom his angel’s wings, to an almost fervent point, but at the same time, he was incredibly happy just to be allowed…no, that didn’t sound right. To be _able _to touch to his heart’s content after so many, many years it was hard to fathom.

In light of that and barring any other problems or issues that might crop up, he far from minded getting to just feel them for a little while. He knew how good it could feel to have that part of your wing massaged, even though to touch his own like that was a bit more difficult. Even being a snake

Once he reached the tip of the wing, he paused then decided to move back down again, with more of a focus on the underside of the bones, if you could call it that.

Another hum, one that might more properly be described as a drawn-out, soft moan came from the angel and there was no doubting that he enjoyed it at that point.

When he reached the root again, he slowly circled the joint, pushing into it and the flesh around it, kneading the muscles that were bunched and just a little tense.

Incorporeal they might normally be and so the flesh of the corporation shouldn’t honestly be affected by it, Crowley knew that that wasn’t how it worked, however illogical it seemed. Though applying too much logic to appendages they could materialise and dematerialise as they wanted was perhaps not the best of ideas.

He felt a sudden weight which puzzled him. It was on his free arm whose hand was resting on the small of Aziraphale’s. No, not really all that sudden. It was truer to say that he’d only noticed it at that point and that the weight had gradually increased over time.

The cause of the weight was, when he turned his head just enough to look without otherwise moving, the wing he had, so far, neglected to massage. It wasn’t quite the full brunt of the weight, though, he could tell that much. Not that he’d have minded if it was.

But it did spread out across as much of his arm as it could, which was quite a lot given the fact that it had to stretch over the angel’s shoulder. It resembled a cat taking a deliberate nap across a surface that shouldn’t be as comfortable as it was making it look.

That wasn’t important, however. What was important was that Aziraphale felt comfortable enough to let his wing relax like that. He hadn’t let it go boneless, exactly, but there was a definite sense that he had loosened his hold on the strings, as it were.

It was very sweet, even if it did make moving a bit more difficult. Granted, he hadn’t moved that arm much from the moment he’d gotten into this position to know, but he wanted to massage around the bone of that wing, too, and he couldn’t do that like this.

In fact, incredibly lovely as this was – and it was, as much because of the feeling of catharsis he couldn’t help from their discussion and his worries about the wing as what he’d thought of earlier – he did need a bit more if he was to properly get at the wings.

“Angel,” he called gently, pushing his arm upward just a little.

“Hmm?” Aziraphale said. His head rested on Crowley’s shoulder right then and his eyes were closed, a soft little smile on his lips as he breathed slowly.

All in all, with the mussed, curly hair and whiteness of his feathers making his skin look more than a bit golden, he looked stunning. More so than usual, that was.

“I need you to…need you to move a bit.”

“Don’t want to. I’m comfortable.” There was just a hint of pouting grumble to the voice, which was unusual for the angel, at least in terms of the pout, but quite frankly endearing. Crowley wasn’t going to admit that out loud but that didn’t change the fact that it was.

Crowley smiled. “I bet. But I can’t get to your feathers properly like this.”

The implications of that, which were somewhat obvious, seemed to sink in and Aziraphale lifted his head.

He let his gaze linger at the ginger for what felt like a lot longer than it almost certainly was. Then, smiling but remaining silent, he sat himself up properly.

Crowley got a kiss, sweet and lingering on the lips, before Aziraphale pulled away and, Crowley wasn’t entirely sure how given the wings and everything, got himself turned around in one rather agile movement that rocked the bed only slightly as he settled with his back to the demon.

His wings were spread out, not just so as to accommodate them in the space they had but as though he was displaying them for Crowley. The space and lack thereof did put a bit of a hamper on its full potential but even so, the ginger certainly appreciated the view.

However, it also brought into view just how much of a state the wings were actually in and though a good few things could probably be attributed to how Aziraphale had slept on them, just as many had nothing to do with that.

The fact that that meant there was more for him to fix and set right during a grooming didn’t matter as much to Crowley as the thought that Aziraphale had lived with them in that state, corporeal or not, for some time. Possibly for a very long time, knowing angels.

Unless…

_No_. He squashed that thought the moment it surfaced, not even giving it time to put forth any argument. That was nothing but jealousy talking, and he wasn’t going to tolerate that, for all of his other insecurities and worries. Not now that he recognised it for what it was nor ever again.

There was no angel up in Heaven that’d come…no, would be _allowed_ close to Aziraphale by the blond bookshop owner himself, much less groom or even touch his wings.

Aziraphale had also made it abundantly clear that the only one he wanted anywhere near him in that way was, had been and always would be Crowley. He’d said it more than once, too, and while Crowley felt embarrassed and guilty that Aziraphale felt he had to repeat it to assuage his fears, he couldn’t deny that it did do what it was meant to. Nor that he felt grateful.

In reality, it was more to do with insecurity and the fears he had associated with that than jealousy and Aziraphale recognised that.

Though he’d misidentified it somewhat, the fact that Crowley could recognise it still meant he could squash it as soon as it surfaced and that was what was important in the circumstances.

The more important fact was that when the wings had evidently been neglected for as long as they had, it was almost a wonder that they weren’t in worse shape than they were. Admittedly, he’d thought something along those before when he’d touched them, but at the time, he hadn’t the opportunity to properly assess them like he had now and what he’d seen previously was only more evident now.

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley at his hesitation, turning a little but mainly looking over his shoulder so that he didn’t move his wings into anything. His books stacked around them, for instance.

He’d opened his mouth, presumably for another assurance that it was alright for the ginger to touch, when he saw not only Crowley’s expression but the direction of his gaze.

Following it, he uttered a small ‘oh’.

The wings drooped a little at that but mainly stayed stretched out, as though he was actively willing them to stay put, which might in fact be the case.

“I…well, they are in something of a sorry state, it seems,” he said quietly and his tone of voice, if not his words, were apologetic. Which was a way of getting around it that Crowley hadn’t considered in his wording. They’d work on that later. “I hadn’t quite realised they’d gotten as bedraggled as that.”

“They aren’t…_bedraggled_,” Crowley protested, even though to be honest, yeah, they were a bit. “Bedraggled is a sodden little kitten or duck that’s been through a wind turbine.”

Aziraphale peered closer at his wings from his not great vantage point, a look of consternation on his face.

“That’s very kind of you to say, dear, but I’m afraid that they are. They’re even worse than I thought they were when last I had them out, when…Oh, goodness, I really should’ve – “

“And now I’m the one doing it,” Crowley interrupted, firmly.

He shifted himself closer to the back of the angel and while he was at it he placed a tender kiss on the back of the neck in front of him where the hairline began.

Once he pulled back from that, he rested his chin on where neck became shoulder, just for a moment, so he could more easily whisper into an ear, assisted by the fact that the face was still turned towards him as much as it could.

“Of course, there’s the thought that since you left it this long, there’s more for me to set right and, well, groom. If you’d kept them gleaming, I’d be done in no time at all,” he said, a smile in his voice as well as on his lips. “And that would be such a shame.”

He finished by planting another kiss, this time on the shell of the ear. At the same time, he reached out, blindly but with a good sense of where he was going, to run his fingers through the downy feathers that trailed under the two wings, on the warm flesh. There weren’t a lot of them, just about enough to create a warm, cushy little spot, but even so, touching them was a very lovely experience, what with their placement and sensitivity.

It certainly seemed to do some sort of trick on Aziraphale. He let out a sound that might’ve been a gasp if it wasn’t so small, and he also arched into the contact.

Crowley’s smile grew a little. To see Aziraphale enjoy something so simple and small but something that Crowley had indisputably caused was…good.

He had a task he needed to get on with, though, much as he would’ve loved to just sit and massage his angel’s wings for hours. Some other day they might do that – and wasn’t that a thought heady enough to send him dizzy after all this time – but for now, he had work to do.

If his nestmate’s wings were in any need of grooming, then Crowley would be incredibly happy to do it for him. As often as he needed.

And, just perhaps, Aziraphale would, when it was time for the demon to sort his own wings, be interested in returning the favour. That would most certainly be something that he’d look forward to.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and then took a good, assessing look at the wings in front of him, trying to decide which areas were the worst and where it would be smartest to start.

Once he had that down, he shifted himself closer still, on his knees with them on either side of the angel, who was sitting cross-legged in front of him. It was more of a question of fitting his body onto the bed like this while giving his wings the maximum amount of space to spread than anything, the ginger knew.

But even so, it was quite an unexpected position to see prim and proper Aziraphale adopt and knowing that he’d done it for Crowley’s sake sent something warm and sticky-soft inside of him to bloom.

As to why he’d chosen that position for himself, it was because that way, Crowley could still manoeuvre easily but had a bit of height and an easier reach without having to push and pull at the wing he was attending.

“Could you spread this wing a little more, angel?” he asked softly, touching the bone carefully in indication. As the wing was obediently stretched more, he hummed an approval.

“There you go. Just let the other one sink down for now,” he murmured, turning his attention down to the wing he’d start with. “No need to tire it out unnecessarily.”

Never mind the fact that it wouldn’t get tired. Probably. He certainly couldn’t remember his wings growing tired during his own grooming sessions. Admittedly, they hadn’t lasted quite as long as this might, given their respective states and so couldn’t necessarily be used as a point of comparison.

To take care of Aziraphale like this, though, looking after him and being the carer for a change even if he didn’t say anything about it out loud…that made such observations fairly irrelevant.

In the eyes of a human, it might not seem much like looking after him. The equivalent to giving someone else a massage or perhaps doing their hair for them. Nice, perhaps even sweet and thoughtful, but certainly not something that qualified as looking after someone.

To angels, however, well…

Crowley trailed his fingers lightly down over the white, soft feathers of the wing he’d focus on first. While he did so, he heard and felt more than saw the other wing lower until it rested, in as much as it could, against the bed. That meant some of it trailed across his side and his leg, which he wasn’t going to complain about at all.

There was also a barely audible but nevertheless clearly contented sigh.

“Is there anything I need to be aware of?” he asked, just running his fingers over the feathers again and again.

Perhaps it was for the best that Aziraphale didn’t have his wings out as a regular thing because Crowley would be enraptured and entirely stuck on touching them all the time he had.

“How do you mean?” the blond asked, and there was something almost sleepy to the voice, which was also very endearing. There was also something else to it, too, which Crowley didn’t pick up on at the time.

“Any places that you don’t like to be touched – “

“So, you can pinpoint exactly where to attack?”

“What?”

The words, rather unexpected, set Crowley immediately on alert and into confusion. Why would he ever – but Aziraphale knew that he wouldn’t, didn’t he?

His hands stopped moving, waiting for what would happen next.

_Don’t panic. Don’t panic. There’s an explanation for this. It’s nothing to worry about, you’ll be fine. Breathe. Even though you don’t need to, _breathe_._

Aziraphale turned his head. “To tickle me, is what I meant,” he said, a look of realisation and sincere apology on his face. “Oh, goodness me, do I have any appendages left to stick in my mouth?”

It was meant to be a self-deprecating ‘amusing’ jab at himself and it was. What Crowley didn’t expect it to be was stimulating as he thought of just what appendages could be put into the angel’s mouth.

Now _really _wasn’t the time, though, was it?

“No, I...I think you’re…you’re good,” he managed to get out, and the fact that there was only the hint of a rasping croak to his voice he counted as a victory. “I just…”

Aziraphale reached behind him and Crowley grasped the hand that was extended towards him, awkwardly due to the angle but he managed to squeeze it, nevertheless.

“As far as I know, there’s nowhere particularly sensitive on them,” the angel said, turning back to face…what, Crowley wasn’t entirely sure, to be honest. He didn’t relinquish the bony hand, however. “But of course, that’s not accounting for the fact that the touch you give yourself is not the same as the one provided by someone else.”

“So…basically you’re saying that you haven’t got a bloody clue about whether they are or not.” Actually, if he thought about it, he knew that Aziraphale did have at least somewhat sensitive wings, given the last time, though whether that was due to circumstances or just in general, he didn’t know.

“Crowley, your language – “

“Is something you ought to be used to by this point. Not as though it’s changed, at a fundamental level, in the time I’ve known you, is it?”

“I suppose not, no.” Aziraphale let out just a little bit of a sigh. “I do sometimes miss the old turns of phrases.”

Crowley didn’t point out that technically speaking, Aziraphale’s speech was still considered ‘old’ by the current humans. He thought he knew what the other meant and he could honestly say that he agreed.

“Some of the swears were good,” he agreed, “beard-splitter, lick-finger and eel-skin spring to mind, just as a start.”

There was, of all things, a snort from the angel. “I’m sure they do.”

It was tending more towards amused than annoyed or exasperated, though, so Crowley decided to leave it be.

If Aziraphale wanted to talk further about old phrases, then he could be his guest. There were other things for Crowley to focus on.

But when he focused back on the wing, retrieving his hand as he did so, and carefully straightened and moved a few lightly bent feathers into place, straightening them as he worked, he didn’t hear any further comments in that direction.

Instead, all he got was a quiet hum, followed by a soft but not unpleasant gasp when he burrowed his fingers again, not to caress but to massage where there was still flesh and bone, to help ease some of the tension. He smiled and let his fingers trail down, moving back and forth gently to encourage what feathers were just crooked or otherwise ruffled to return to their original state without further intervention. That and shake out small bits of dust, dirt and such that might’ve gotten in there. This was a bookshop, after all, and celestial being or not, dust was a prerequisite. Part of him was sure that at least a few of the books were materialised entirely from dust. So, it would follow that some of it found their way into the wings the moment they were out.

Sure enough, there was quite a bit of dust there. Once that was taken care of, he returned to straightening the feathers that refused to be nudged towards lying down straight…or at least, lying as they should.

There were a few that needed to be pulled entirely, though, much as he didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t going to hurt like a good feather would, but it would still hurt more than a bit. It needed doing, though.

To start with, he also kept an eye out, as he had before, for any sign that what he’d been worried about to the point of terror, and to a degree still was, was not present. That everything was indeed as alright as Aziraphale claimed it to be.

Then, when he continued to not find anything, he started to relax, to get into the rhythm and the sheer enjoyment of the task. Not to mention, of course, the continued tight, nova-bright nugget inside of him that marvelled at the fact that he was able to do this _with Aziraphale. _That in itself almost blew everything else out of the water and out of his mind.

But the enjoyment did mean that he was starting to forget that he still ought to look out, just to be on the safe side. He could ill afford to let his guard down entirely, could he?

And yet, he couldn’t help but fall into that soft, gentle contentment and joy. Feel the connection between the two of them, intangible though it was. Just bask in the moment.

So engaged was he that he didn’t notice the way Aziraphale’s breath had gone from gradually slowing and deepening to picking up speed again nor the way in which he was now breathing slightly unsteadily. Nor the way that he shifted a little where he sat. That he had to swallow hard once or twice was more understandable that Crowley didn’t clock, regardless of focus, due to their positions.

Working like this, where he could see the entirety of the wing rather having to twist and turn and drape it over and across himself and other surfaces in order to cover even most of the wingspan, that was a revelation in itself and a rather surprising delight. It made it so much easier to assess, to work methodically and thoroughly, and, of course, be gentle and careful in his approach.

The last thing he wanted was to be the one causing the angel any kind of pain, psychological or physical. That he managed to do at least the former regardless was a different matter altogether.

In that vein, he danced around pulling the feathers that needed pulling until everything else had been sorted on that wing. Of course, he could move forward with the other wing and leave the pulling either for later or for Aziraphale to take care of.

He wasn’t going to. If he was going to groom his angel’s wings, then it would be all aspects of it, and he would do as good a job of it as he could. That was both his privilege and his duty as a nestmate. At least as an even marginally good one.

But perhaps he ought to…no, he most definitely should, especially in light of their previous fumbling communication.

“Angel?” he asked, quietly so as not to startle the other after spending so long in admittedly contented silence.

He got no answer. Had Aziraphale inadvertently fallen asleep where he sat? Or maybe he just hadn’t heard him.

So, he tried again.

“Aziraphale? You still with me, angel? Look, there’s a few feathers that I need to…I’m sorry but there’s no real alternative way of and I’ll do my best to be careful, but…” He trailed off as there still wasn’t any kind of acknowledgement that he was being heard. In fact, the other was just a bit too still for comfort.

“Aziraphale?”

Eventually, there came a “Yes?” from the blond. To be honest, though, it was drawn out and more breath than any proper word.

In fact, if Crowley didn’t know better, he would’ve said that it was a breathy moan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a cliffhanger? I wouldn't think so but well...sorry if it is. Also sorry that this is yet more talking.  
I think we're going to go at least up to the mature label as promised and soon, too. Might go further, I don't know yet. I know this took a fortnight to get out but it's almost 6k and I feel like we got somewhere here, at least. I'm really trying.  
Things are a bit, well, hard IRL rn, so while I hope I'll get the next chapter out before the year is out, I can't promise that I will. I'll do my best, though.


	5. Clarity and consent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley overanalyses and tries to make things right, to help and teach Aziraphale as they venture into a new and more sexual, though not necessarily more intimate, part of their relationship, both stumbling along but willing to work on it and make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to all who have read and those who have left such absolutely wonderful feedback. Especially the understanding and patience with me and getting this chapter out, that genuinely helped immensely in coping with everything and writing it.

But he did know better and it did not make any sense at all. It certainly did not tally with…well, to be honest and fair, what he expected of his angel more than what he actually knew about him.

Because it _could_ be that he was moaning, insofar as it could be called that, because he was contented and pleased and once prodded, that was all the noise that he could muster, too deeply submerged in the experience to concentrate on more.

Crowley stilled any remaining motion.

Yes, it could be that, except…

Except that it had definitely sounded like a moan with something of a, dare he think it, a more _carnal _enjoyment to it. Which didn’t fit with Aziraphale at all.

If ever there was a picture of chaste enjoyment – even considering the noises of pleasure he made while savouring a particular culinary delight, some of which had played havoc, to say the least, with Crowley over the years, because he didn’t _mean_ anything by – it was probably Aziraphale.

True, it couldn’t be said, if Crowley was being perfectly honest with himself, that the angel eschewed the sensations the world had to offer in other regards and not just in terms of food. Music, fine arts, quality colognes and other such…things were ones that got savoured to the fullest degree by Aziraphale. Even antiques – the snuffboxes, oh, good grief, the snuffboxes.

But though he could stare at a painting of Greek heroes and ‘gods’ for ages and extol the qualities of the painter and the beauty of the subjects, whatever their shape and appendages, there had never, not once in all the time Crowley had known him, been any indication that he found them appealing in anything but an aesthetically platonic sense. He might as well be staring at a waterfall cascading into sylvan splendour or taking in the flight of a single butterfly.

Examples of God’s creation, each and every one of them, and to be cherished for it.

Crowley might’ve thought there was something there, some spark that could lead to something more…physically intimate in the fullness of time, when he’d broken into the bookshop and everything had unravelled, thankfully to his benefit – which he still couldn’t help but honestly marvel at.

And though that wasn’t to say that there hadn’t been ‘a spark’ or whatever it might be called, genuinely so, at the time, because he honestly believed that there had, it didn’t follow that it would still be the case now. That once the entire mixture of revelations and emotions wasn’t rolling around like the innermost ball in a jade generation ball – had he brought one of those home for Aziraphale once? – things would ever evolve into something…carnal.

And yet…

No. It couldn’t be, just couldn’t be. Aziraphale did not have such thoughts or such inclinations, whatever the implications of his utterances might be. They were entirely inadvertent and that was the end of it.

_You know, there is one way to find out for sure, don’t you?_

Not necessarily – and even if there was, that didn’t mean he should look. It would be entirely wrong of him, not to mention invasive.

_You’re a demon. You’re not supposed to follow the rules, are you? In fact, you’re meant to break them at any given opportunity._

He wasn’t meant to love, either, so that point didn’t hold much if any water because he dearly loved his angel and had done so for long enough that he couldn’t even remember not loving him.

And that was really what it boiled down to. It wasn’t so much that he shouldn’t because it would be breaking a rule but that it would be stepping over Aziraphale’s boundaries, some of which he might not even be aware of.

What should he do, then, though? He couldn’t just ignore it or proceed as though nothing had happened. Not entirely, anyway. The pause he’d let build between Aziraphale’s breathy answer might go unnoticed, if the blond was feeling generous or still too floaty in contentment. When it came to how he’d paused entirely in grooming the wings, however, that was far less likely to not have been spotted.

And indeed, the wing, which had been tended to, stirred and shifted, pushing upward a little, in the precise area that Crowley’s hands still hovered over.

He couldn’t have been that out of it, then.

“Crowley?” he asked and though it wasn’t an outright moan and you could actually understand the word this time, there was still a slow breathiness to the voice that had the poor demon swallowing hard.

Purely a coincidence, nothing more. Nothing was meant by it; he shouldn’t be reacting.

It was a good thing that they had to actively manifest any…equipment that they needed or wanted.

“I…ehm…I was just saying that I need to…there’s a few feathers that need…that I have to…they’re not in a state to…and it’s gonna hurt even if…if I’m careful…so I just wanted to, well, warn you.”

Bless it all, he wasn’t supposed to sound that fumbling about it. It was worse than the first attempt, which hadn’t exactly been good. That he couldn’t sound normal was definitely going to alert Aziraphale that something was up.

He expected the other to turn his head, perhaps make some sort of comment. Either one that wasn’t too focused or one that would see what state Crowley was in and act accordingly. That last one in particular was probably more a wish, a hope than anything else and he would more likely get no comment or one with a bit of a tease in it. It would be a kind one, though.

Or he’d be practical about it and pull out the feathers himself.

What he didn’t expect was for Aziraphale to draw in breath, a little sharply, as if he hadn’t quite been expecting that, which didn’t quite add up.

Neither did the colour that Crowley was sure was on soft cheeks, confirmed when it spread down the neck and the back of it, warm and vivid and unmistakable, even for the demon.

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said. “That…that makes a tremendous…I should’ve realised that…but do go ahead, dear.”

Was it just Crowley, or was there an edge of hesitation in that last bit? Why was that? Not to mention the ‘should’ve realised’ bit. Should’ve realised what, exactly?

As if that wasn’t enough, there was a tenseness in the shoulders that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t pronounced but this close and with the focus on the other Crowley had, it was hard not to spot.

Even so, he was going to ask.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Whatever should be wrong?” As he asked a question in return, Aziraphale shifted where he sat.

Crowley hesitated. It couldn’t be that it was going to hurt. The angel had been relatively fine when they’d pulled the ones Crowley now had in his pendant. Though those were coverts rather than primaries or secondaries, they were still attached. Or had been. The point still stood.

But what else could be wrong?

He leaned forward and, inhaling the soft scent of books and tea off warm skin, let his lips press against the spot where neck became shoulders and back. It was lingering but entirely chaste.

Once he pulled back, he spoke, quietly.

“Don’t do this to me, angel. Not after all of that…I’m daft, yeah, I admit that, but I’m not that daft. Something is the matter. If you don’t want me to pull them, that’s fine, but I’d like you to say.”

There was no hesitation to find in the answer. “I do want you to.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Crowley asked. He kissed the same spot again, just like before, and this time, he noticed the smallest little shiver. “And don’t say ‘nothing’, okay? I’m not going to accept ‘nothing’ as an answer.”

“I, well…” Aziraphale shifted again.

The demon laid his cheek against the warm, soft skin of the angel’s back, a part of him noting that he could happily spend hours sitting just like this. Maybe even take a good long nap.

Aziraphale pressed back into him, seemingly fine with the touch.

So, when Crowley then snaked an arm, the one the furthest from the wing he’d been tending to, around the other’s waist, with the intention to make a hug a little easier, and Aziraphale tensed, the ginger could admit to some puzzlement and worry.

“Aziraphale?”

“I’m…ah, well…” He stopped speaking, his mouth shutting with a barely audible clack, as though he wanted to keep whatever might escape from doing so.

The hands were folded over his stomach, as was his norm. Crowley didn’t need to see that to know that, having become incredibly familiar with it over the centuries. The millennia, really, but who was counting?

No, not quite on the usual spot. The angle felt wrong for that. A little lower, in fact, as if they were trying to conceal something. Something a bit…specific.

But that…that couldn’t be right. That would fit right in with what he’d convinced himself couldn’t be true with the moan earlier. Which wasn’t a moan, either, because Aziraphale was an _angel _and that was an end of it.

And there might be other reasons why the hands were where they were, including it just being a more comfortable position for them while he was in that sitting position, one which he did have trouble ever remembering seeing the other sitting like this.

Then again, this wasn’t much like anything either of them had done before, was it?

If only this wasn’t confusing him as much as it was.

What should he do?

His hand seemed to have taken instructions from something other than his head, however, and had slid forward, the fingers reaching with the apparent intention of…he wasn’t actually sure.

As soon as it came close, however, it was grabbed by the hand it was nearing. It wasn’t quite pushed away but it was pulled upwards, the deflection just as evident.

What was also evident when his hand had been close enough, however, was a heat coming upwards that couldn’t be attributed to just the general area or even how he was sitting.

Something far more centralised, that could almost only be…

“Aziraphale?” he asked again, his confusion only growing.

As was the part of him that would very much like to explore Aziraphale in a more physical way. Not anything he wasn’t comfortable with, though, of course. Never that, whatever else happened and whatever else he thought, but if he was amenable…any way in which he might be amenable, Crowley would be, as well.

That did not negate his confusion, however, nor the wish to be more than certain. After all –

There was a noise then, one that stole his attention. It came from Aziraphale and was what might be described as a squeak eked out between a set of heavy and determined shutters.

Crowley didn’t say anything, just held his breath and waited for the other to get there.

“I’m…I can’t…I mean, I don’t,” Aziraphale said, not making any sense whatsoever with his broken sentences. “I don’t understand what’s happening and I cannot stop it.”

“Don’t understand…?”

The angel made a pained noise as he did push the demon’s hand away. Despite that, he didn’t let go of it, however. “Oh, as though you didn’t comprehend what’s going on already.”

“I honestly don’t, or I wouldn’t be asking, would I?”

He got no answer for that, so he took a small risk and let his free, right hand course back down over the feathers.

An intake of breath, small but sharp and audible this close, was his reward.

“Crowley, please…”

“Please what, my angel? I only want to help.”

“Oh, you wicked tempter…”

Normally, he would’ve leered at such a moniker and even with his angel, he might have at least smirked, his head cocked and his eyebrows just barely visible as they were raised behind the sunglasses. Aziraphale lightly flustered was adorable and he almost always smiled immediately afterwards.

Not this time, though. This time, it sounded lost and embarrassed and Crowley’s heart twisted at the thought that he’d caused that, however inadvertently.

“I’m not trying to_ tempt_ you, Aziraphale. Just help you, with whatever the matter is.”

“Oh, good Lord.”

“Leave Her out of it.”

There was a pause, pregnant and drawn-out. Long enough for Crowley to sigh heavily, painfully, and pull away from the blond, however much his own body and his heart protested at the idea.

He shouldn’t push it. Shouldn’t go past what Aziraphale could handle or even come close, really. Hadn’t meant to make the angel uncomfortable in any way. In fact, he’d hoped to achieve the exact opposite.

Maybe that was at least part of what bothered him; that he seemed to have been well on his way to make him comfortable, both in the sense of immediate, physical sensation and in of being around Crowley in such a situation as grooming.

And then he went and spoiled it. Of course. Somehow, he wasn’t really all that surprised. He shouldn’t be, anyway.

One way or the other, he always managed to fuck things up good and proper, didn’t he? It might take a while, but he got there in the end, sometimes with spectacular results.

A spectacle only had to be notable, didn’t it? Sufficiently dramatic, preferably, but nowhere did it say it had to be positive in its implications, after all.

For a moment, as he pulled away, he thought he could feel a faint but somehow still searing, tangible memory-echo of the burn of Falling on his back. On his whole body, in fact, and he made a noise that he couldn’t entirely repress, something along the lines of ‘nnnghk’ hissing between his teeth.

Had he not made a concerted effort to suppress the noise and the emotions and feeling causing it, he felt sure what would have come out would’ve been akin to a scream.

Though the moment seemed to last for absolutely ever, he was in reality attempted stopped almost the instant he started to pull away; a hand shot out to grab him by the wrist and dragged at it while the other hand reached out and tried to find his other hand.

Meanwhile, the angel’s back curved outwards, towards Crowley, assisted by the rest of the body, as if that way, he would more decisively bridge the gap between them and anchor that bridge so solidly into foundations that it could never be broken.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley protested. Or rather, he meant to say that in protest. What actually came out was something more akin to an unintelligible jumble of sounds that may have been the angel’s name.

“Don’t go,” Aziraphale said and though he didn’t shout, didn’t even raise his voice, there was a fierceness to it that was…not unprecedented, not even together here like this. But it was somewhat surprising, nevertheless, though Crowley couldn’t put his finger on exactly why that was.

When the demon still tried to pull free, though he possibly didn’t put as much strength into it as he could have, as he wouldn’t force Aziraphale into something, especially not through guilt or obligation, he found it about as effective a manoeuvre as it had been when the blond had had hold of his hands and had dragged him further into the room when he’d broken into the bookshop.

With the exact same result, too; it was what Aziraphale was trying to achieve that ended up happening.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Aziraphale said, in that same tone of voice, albeit, perhaps, a little bit softer. “Here I go saying that we need to work on your fears, that we should talk about it, and then when it comes down to it, I am in no position to place myself higher.”

“Nobody was saying that – “Crowley began to protest. Where had this come from?

“That’s no excuse, is it? I should’ve thought that…and I did know that it might and yet I didn’t inform you of that possibility.” He took a breath, short, sharp and decisive, it seemed. “Well, no more.”

“Aziraphale, if you’re scared of this – “Crowley waved his fingers in the direction of the other’s lap, which was more of a wiggle due to both proximity and mobility – “then you ‘shouldn’t’ do anything. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you ought to and I’m sorry that – “

“I’m not scared.”

Of all the – “Clearly you are.”

“Well…perhaps,” Aziraphale conceded. The very briefest of hesitations before he then went on, as determined as before. “But not for the reasons you might think, and I really should be laying the cards on the table. I’m not scared of you nor of being touched. I suppose I just…I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I would be for what it would feel like.”

“Ehm, yeah. Okay. Makes sense. Only, I started grooming you before,” Crowley pointed out, trying to get things sorted in his head, and he couldn’t decide whether it was a good thing or a bad that Aziraphale was facing away from him. It did prevent him from getting a proper look at the other’s face, which he didn’t like, but at the same time, it made it easier to hide his own.

“And your panic quite drove whatever lovely thoughts and sensations I had been submerged in from my mind – that is not to say that I blame you, mind. Not in the slightest, do you understand? My point is merely that I did not get the same opportunity, in peace of mind or in sheer length, to get to the point that I reached just before.”

He wetted his lips, a quick dart of the tongue before he continued. Even hampered as he was by the position, Crowley couldn’t help but watch the unintended display.

“Nor did I know that such prolonged exposure would not merely heighten but positively multiply the sensations.”

That…sounded positive but might in reality mean that he was overwhelmed by it, which was not a good thing. Or it could be that the sensations he had liked had morphed into some that he didn’t, the more carnal ones and –

Aziraphale tugged again. Not hard, not demanding, just enough to get the point across about staying put. “What I’m trying to say, dearest, is that this is entirely new territory for me but that I am not opposed to exploring it with you. Quite the opposite, even if I only just reached that realisation fully.”

“Aziraphale…” Crowley sounded more concerned than convinced.

“Oh. Unless you don’t want me to –?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

The words flew out of the demon’s mouth and for once, he was grateful for his mouth’s ability to act before he had a chance to think. It got him in there, cut the other off before he got going, which was just as well in the circumstances, and there wasn’t anything dangerous in what he’d said.

“I want you to, I just…I never thought you’d want to, being an angel and all, so I – nngh! “

He was derailed in his thoughts and in his words by another tug, one with just a bit more force to it, which brought the hand that had almost touched originally fully into contact with the source of the warmth he’d felt before.

It was covered with the undergarments – to call them boxers or even briefs didn’t do justice to the things…but they were entirely fitting, in more ways than one – but even so, there could be no doubt that Aziraphale had manifested an Effort.

That it had appeared without his apparent conscious say in the matter was…well, both a little concerning and more than a bit lovely…and arousing.

Even so, Crowley hadn’t been prepared for the other to be as forward as that. A forwardness heightened even more by the hand keeping his own where it was.

There was something that he needed to ask first, though.

“Aziraphale, are you – are you sure?” he asked and detached his touch as much as that was possible, so that he wouldn’t do something he shouldn’t before he’d had his answer. “I need to know you’re sure. Absolutely sure.”

It didn’t matter in that context that a shudder had run through the blond the moment the bony hand had made contact. Nor that he had manifested an Effort in the first place. In fact, Crowley was determined not to do anything until he had it straight from Aziraphale’s mouth that it was wanted. Unequivocally and enthusiastically.

‘Implicit’ was not something he’d allow to muddy or ruin his life ever again, not for anything. Especially not when it came to his relationship with Aziraphale, which was more precious to him than anything he could think of.

“Ye-es,” Aziraphale managed to say and he must have realised that it didn’t sound terribly convincing because he immediately said, “Yes. Yes, I’m sure, dearest. Please. I want to experience that with you.”

“Even if it’s not something an angel should want to – “

“Yes!” The interrupting answer was clear and very much both unequivocal and enthusiastic. As was the small shift that wasn’t quite a buck of the hips.

Aziraphale turned his head and if Crowley didn’t know better, it looked as though there was just a bit of a glare to his gaze. There was warmth in there, too, though, of more than one kind.

“If I choose to defy them becoming the nestmate of a demon, then I will not allow such a small thing as physical intimacy to be the barrier that I cannot cross because of them.”

He paused, drew a breath and continued, in a much gentler voice, “There has been and may yet be other barriers but that will not be one of them. I promise you. Now, please. Show me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's not very long after all the wait and that it's not yet any kind of smut. They insisted on talking and being uncertain idiots again but in the end, after rewriting bits and worrying, because me, I found that it made sense that they would. At least it's consistent.  
Each time I hear, say or write 'show me', I hear Audrey Hepburn snap it...  
I shall do my very best to get the next chapter out sooner.


	6. Teaching an angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally gets to show Aziraphale what getting touched intimately can feel like. Of course they stumble a bit along the way but that's about par for the course by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I again cannot thank all of you enough. Your feedback just means the world.  
This might be over a fortnight since the last chapter but at least it's almost 5k, so it'll make up for it a bit, hopefully.

Whether that last part was meant as a question or as a demand, Crowley couldn’t quite tell. He decided to take it as a request and comply with it. Not that that was much of a hardship, really.

No hardship at all, actually; granted definite permission like that, he was more than willing to wrap his hand around the hardness wafting warmth against him as best he could. Ideally, he would have it bare, both for the sake of his own enjoyment and that of his partner.

As it was, though, what with Aziraphale being inexperienced, it might be just as well to start with a bit of a barrier, so that he better could get used to having any kind of aroused Effort before plunging in at the deep end, as it were.

That and touching a cock that was covered had its own little set of perks.

Such as pressing at the fabric on each side of the hardness so that the fabric pulled and…well…

But perhaps that was for a later time.

Right now, it seemed just having Crowley touch it at all, cloth barrier and all, was an unexpected pleasure for Aziraphale, if the small noises he was making was anything to go by.

The demon shuffled himself even closer so he could both plaster himself against the other’s back, feeling the joints of the wings against his chest and upper stomach, which tickled the skin there in a surprisingly pleasant way, and better reach for that length.

If he was going to do this, and it looked as though he was, he was going to do it as well as he possibly could.

This wasn’t just their first sexual experience together, after all, it appeared to be Aziraphale’s first sexual experience altogether. While the notion of ‘a perfect first time’ was nothing but a load of absolute tosh – there didn’t exist such a thing and trying to achieve it would only make it far less likely that you were going to enjoy yourself, which really spoiled the whole point – there was a more reasonable wish for it to be as good of an experience as it possibly could be.

That applied whether you were sixteen or roughly six thousand years old.

_And if you can’t deliver something good? You’re not exactly a ‘demon of lust’, are you?_

No more than any other demon, no, but by that same token, he was a tempter in all its shapes and forms, he was good at it, even if how he’d learned hadn’t always been…and he did know a thing or two. Or three, now he came to recollect.

He would make it as good as he could and if he ended up being lacking for his angel in any way even so, then…he felt something settle in the pit of his stomach at that very thought, something lumpen and yet wriggling, but he ignored it firmly…then he would find some other way for Aziraphale to enjoy himself.

Heaven, he’d buy every conceivable toy out there, maybe invent a few himself – not as though that would be the first time that happened, after all – if that’s what was necessary.

But that was still only a possible risk, he reminded himself.

Right now, what was important was in front of him.

_You do the job that’s in front of you._

Again, he felt sure he’d read that somewhere but couldn’t place it. It wasn’t a bad thought to carry with him, though.

He thought about settling his legs on either side of the other but decided not to, in case Aziraphale would feel boxed in by it.

Besides, he could reach just fine this way. Instead of grabbing it more firmly, however, he used the added manoeuvrability to let the pads of his finger touch the base of the covered cock and drag them upwards. Not with speed and not with that much pressure, just enough that Aziraphale could get a sense of it.

There was an intake of breath at that that had the hint of noise to it.

Crowley settled his chin back on the other’s shoulder, gently and without pressure, then turned his head to plant a kiss under an ear.

“Tell me what you’d like,” he mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale replied, his voice a breath of confusion. “I have never…ooh…never tried this before. Anything. Anything you would like. Everything you’d like.”

That was hardly helpful, even though there was something endearing in that statement. It was so very, well, _Aziraphale,_ to want to try everything now that he had found something new to give him pleasure. A proper glutton, even though the angel himself would probably think of it as ‘gourmand’ or ‘sensualist’ instead.

“Then we’d be here all day, angel. Never mind that this isn’t about me.” Another kiss to the soft, ever-enticing skin, a hush to prevent the protest and then a thought occurred. “How about I go slowly, then, let you feel a few different things and you can see which one you’d like more of?”

Aziraphale gave a nod but then he asked, voice quiet, “What if I…what if I find out that I would like more of all of them, dear?”

Crowley had to stifle a groan. He couldn’t imagine a better way to go but Aziraphale was going to be the death of him, if not the outright destruction.

“Then we’ll…oh, Satan…”

“Crowley?”

The demon buried his face where the angel’s neck met shoulder, needing to hide for just a second or two.

Aziraphale didn’t ask again, something which he was grateful for in the circumstances, but waited those few moments.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured into said neck after he’d managed to pull himself together then added, “Now who’s the tempter?”

“Hardly,” Aziraphale said and though it might’ve been intended as a scoff, it came out a little too soft and a little too breathy to pull that off. There was the sense that momentary tension leaked out, which the ginger was really grateful for.

“I beg to differ,” Crowley said, just a little sharply, turning his head up a little to suck at the patch of skin beneath a slightly prominent, rounded ear. He wasn’t going to allow Aziraphale to talk down about himself like that.

That earned him a small shudder, too, but also a neck or throat – at what point did the side go from neck to throat, anyway? – being tilted in his direction.

More important, though, at least in what he might deem as supporting the permission and willingness, was not the slight buck of hips or even the shift back into the body behind him. It was the small, almost imperceptible snap of fingers that indicated a miracle.

One which removed the angel’s underwear entirely…and not just his, either. Crowley found himself without any clothes on at all, which he hadn’t expected to happen.

That wasn’t because he didn’t want for them to be off, whether that was by hands or by the more expedient miracle. But if they were indeed taking it in small steps, which was more than fine, then he would’ve been more inclined to think his kit would at least stay on. Heaven, he’d thought that to miracle himself down to his underwear would be too much for the angel.

It was unexpected, that’s what it was.

_Not to mention that this wasn’t something that you made the decision on. If the question is about explicit or implicit permission, then you can’t say that he had yours to remove your clothes. Implicit maybe but that’s…well, that’s not on, is it?_

Nah. That was fine. It wasn’t as though Crowley didn’t want to, was it?

_No, but it’s not he who gets to decide what you should be comfortable with, either, though, not without talking about it, first._

Well, of course, that was –

Aziraphale stiffening brought him out of the knotting his thoughts were twisting themselves into.

“Angel?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t – I seem to have done a more…thorough job of it than I intended. Only intended to remove my own but I guess my thoughts ran away with me a little. I can put them right…I genuinely didn’t mean to, dear.”

Crowley opened his mouth, to say that it was okay, that he didn’t need to ask, but something stopped him. Hadn’t he just thought of exactly that thing and hadn’t they talked about them needing to communicate, to verbalise the issues so they could deal with them?

“Thank you,” he said instead, softly, warmly. “A towel would be good. Or something else I can easily remove if I need to.” That seemed to be a workable solution as well as a compromise.

Another snap, and there was indeed something wrapped around his hips, despite the position he sat in. It at first glance appeared to be a towel but, having had to wear something similar for a time, he recognised it as the bottom half of a kilt. Was that just called a kilt these days?

“Did you…angel, did you just make me a kilt out of thick flannel?”

“It was the first thing I could think of that fit the criteria!” Aziraphale said, though he sounded perplexed and slightly embarrassed rather than indignant, as Crowley might’ve expected. Well, perhaps just a little bit indignant. “But I didn’t think wool would be good in the circumstances and – “

He stopped speaking when he noticed something.

Crowley was shaking slightly but when Aziraphale turned his head to look, it didn’t seem to be out of anger or because he was crying.

No, he was trying to stifle the laughter bubbling up his throat, shaking a little from the effort yet not really succeeding in quelling it.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked and though the confusion was there, there was also that special tone where you’ve been unintentionally infected by someone else’s mirth but is trying to persevere in what you were saying, which is usually something fairly serious.

“I’m sorry,” the demon finally managed to say, talking through some continued giggling. “I shouldn’t…and it’s not appropriate…but it’s just…a kilt made out of flannel!”

It really wasn’t that funny, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

“What should I have made it out of, then?” the angel asked, and he’d given up keeping the smile out of his voice. “Silk?”

That set Crowley off into actual laughter. He’d leaned his head against the other’s back and was now clutching at his shoulders.

“Only you, Aziraphale!” he managed to say between bouts. “Bloody hell, only you!”

“What do you mean, ‘only me’? You’re the one always miracling clothes into existence.” Despite the words, the smile wasn’t just in his voice now and was in fact becoming an outright grin.

“But only you would think of…of a flannel kilt! With angel wings on it!”

At that, Aziraphale joined in with the laughter, which made Crowley laugh harder in turn and soon, they were somewhat lost to it.

Sometimes why you’re laughing stops having anything to do with what started you laughing and is instead sustained because someone else is laughing, feeding a loop that only stops because you can’t laugh anymore, or you’ll start to seriously hurt. Or cry. Or both.

By the time it ebbed out, tension that Crowley hadn’t even been entirely aware of had leeched from the room, the laughter something of a catharsis.

He removed his hands from their position on the other’s back but only so he could wrap them around his angel…who still had his wings out, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind.

Hugging him from behind, he whispered softly, “I love you, angel. I love you so bleeding much.”

Aziraphale somehow managed to twist in his torso to somewhat return the hug with one arm, beaming, evidence of mirth and love written all over his gorgeous features.

“I love you, too, my dear, more than I could ever say.” Despite the awkward position, he managed to steal a kiss. “Now would you please bugger me?”

And there went Crowley choking, halfway from shock and halfway from joyous laughter.

“Yessir!” he grinned. “Though I think you meant ‘wank’, Aziraphale. Buggering is something else.”

“Oh?”

“Remember Sodom?” Probably there was a better way of explaining it but hopefully it’d get across.

“Oh. _Oh.” _Aziraphale shifted on his arse as understanding seemingly dawned.

There was a pause. “Was that you, by the way?”

That was curiosity, not condemnation in his voice, Crowley was…was actually relieved to hear, to be honest, stupid though that might be to say. Or perhaps not so stupid, given how it had been phrased whenever that sort of question had come up between them before. ‘Your demonic work’, indeed.

“No.” He said it with emphasis, as always, perhaps more so than normal. Then he paused, thinking back. “Didn’t get a commendation for that, either.”

“What a shame.” The irony dripped like caramel sauce, slow but thick.

“Hey!”

Aziraphale shifted on his bum again, looking thoughtful. “Not sure I did mean ‘wank’, as a matter of fact.”

As the words, and the implications thereof, sank in, along with quite the vivid, graphic image provided by one incredible imagination, Crowley made a noise that might best be described as a verbal keyboard smash.

“Crowley?”

“Never mind Heaven or Hell,” the demon said in a raspy wheeze when he’d pulled his brain together again. “I’m going to be discorporated long before they can get to me. Hell’s sake, angel, you go from the zero to a hundred in the span of a few sentences, and after you said – “

He shut up then, his teeth clacking as he closed his mouth, having no desire to go near that hornet’s nest again. To hear the hurt in Aziraphale’s voice, as well as to see it reflected in every part of his body, had been difficult enough the first time he’d brought it up, just earlier. There was no need to mention it again.

He was about to say something like ‘think of a poor demon’s constitution’, but then thought that that might be construed wrongly. Again. Not to say that he wouldn’t understand why but even so.

So, instead he chose to say, “One thing at a time, angel. There’s no rush, it’s not a race. I’d love to show you what exactly ‘buggering’ can entail, but I’d like to show this first. Is that okay?” he asked, punctuating it with a kiss to a shoulder.

There was something alluring all on its own just to be able, to be _allowed_, to touch that soft skin like this. Or any other way, really. Just to have access to it, both visually and tactilely, was something he’d dreamed about but had never ever thought would become a reality.

To be perfectly honest, this was one thing that he would never tire of indulging in…along with all the other things that came with their change in status, really, and the change on its own. This, though, was still the part that had seemed the most insubstantial, spectral room in what was already a castle in the air.

He planted another kiss, just for good measure, tasting the skin with just the tip of his tongue before he pulled back.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, dear, I didn’t mean to imply that – “

“I know. Or I think I do, anyway. But is it okay?” He needed to be sure.

“Yes. _Please _show me.”

Well, then, it could hardly get more unequivocal than that, could it?

He disentangled one hand from where it had been wrapped around the soft belly, reached down a little and wrapped it instead around the length that had flagged slightly in the interim but surprisingly, it was only very little, indeed.

Of course, there were certain benefits to being supernatural but even so, he couldn’t help but be secretly pleased.

There was also the fact that without any clothes to get in the way, it opened up the way for new sensations and opportunities.

For now, though, he was quite content to just explore and get Aziraphale used to the sensations, as well.

Which might be just as well; Aziraphale, turned back to face away from the demon, moaned and pushed up into the contact the moment the hand closed around him.

“No rush,” Crowley reminded him. As before, he kept his grip fairly light though he also kept it a closed ring around the length instead of the tease of fingertips.

Sliding upwards first, he went slow, tightening just a little bit as he got to the head. Not enough that it would hurt but enough that it earned him a small tremble.

The small tremble became a larger shudder and an aborted thrust as he let his thumb glide gently across the slit, gathering the small amount of liquid that had formed there.

Part of him wanted greatly at that point to let go for just long enough that he could bring the thumb up closer, so that he could reach it with his tongue and taste it. Sticking his tongue out a little through his teeth allowed him the ghost of a taste, but that only whetted his appetite for more.

But now wasn’t quite the time. There was no need to overwhelm Aziraphale – if he was even ready for that sort of thing.

He seemed to have enough to take in as it were, as another tremble ran through him. His eyes were clearly on the hand around his cock and, consequently, also on the thumb.

Crowley’s view of his face was limited but he appeared to watch with keen interest.

Always eager to learn, was his Aziraphale.

Well, then…

The demon slid his hand down again, just as slowly as it had gone up, until he reached the base. There he paused for a beat, two, before he slid it up once more, then repeated the movement up and down twice more.

On the next slide up, just as Aziraphale might begin to get used to a rhythm, he added a twisting motion and just a bit more tension. It was a good thing that he’d thought to miracle in something to ease the way just a little – and that he wouldn’t be told off for frivolous miracles.

“Aah!” Aziraphale cried and bucked, then, when Crowley paused, sagged back against him, his eyes closed.

“More, Crowley, more,” he whispered. Pleaded, really, which was even better.

“More what, angel?” Crowley said and his voice came out as a lightly hissing purr. He nuzzled into the neck and licked a stripe up it.

“Oh, you…more touches. I want…I need…”

He reached down with his own hand and tried to overlap the ginger’s. Tried to take control, in fact, but Crowley wasn’t going to allow it. Not because this was his territory or anything moronic like that, not at all.

But this was not about Aziraphale taking over but rather about allowing Crowley to show him. More than that, it was about…a lot of things, really, but among them, it was giving the angel the opportunity to just enjoy, let go and experience what this new thing was.

Crowley, for all of his being a mess, knew this and could take the reins in this particular field, could be there for his angel just like he’d been there for him.

So, he batted the hand away, or rather, took it away carefully, gently.

“No, angel,” he admonished but his voice was soft, it was loving. “No touching yourself. Not yet. I’ve got you. Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you, I promise.” There was so much to show him but as he’d said himself, there was no rush. They could take another turn, if they needed. Several, in fact, provided nothing disturbed them.

“I need…faster, I think, stronger. More,” the blond said, the last word becoming a moan as Crowley started up again, complying with his angel’s wishes. “I need more…need _more of you.”_

Well, if that wasn’t a gut punch of arousal…

“Can’t get much closer than this.”

_“Try.” _The word was half plead, half demand and entirely seductive in its tone, even though it in all likelihood wasn’t meant to be.

Before Crowley could do much of anything, though, plump hands reached out and behind either side of Aziraphale to grab at bony knees. Somehow, he managed to tug the lower legs out and not only that, but up and over his own thighs. Which not only brough Crowley flush against him, but also gave him something of the demon to touch, with ease.

Said demon had to close his eyes for a moment and just breathe as slowly as possible in an attempt to get everything back under control. He had not expected to be pulled at like that – not that he was against it – and he was certainly not prepared to be close like that to so much of that warm, soft, gorgeous skin and flesh, not to mention the root of the wings. Whose feathers tickled at his own skin, which included his nipples and that in turn sent a bolt through him.

Entirely without his permission, at least his conscious one, something else happened as well; an Effort tented the flannel kilt and pressed against the backside he was flush against. It wasn’t fully erect from the get-go, but it was more than it wasn’t, and the fact that it was there in the first place, when he hadn’t the intention of manifesting it, was quite the surprise.

Even so, his hand had faltered for only a fraction of a second, then continued as though nothing had happened.

Not that he noticed that, at least right then.

His mind was much more preoccupied with the reaction of the angel. Not only had he begun to rock into the motion of the hand, following it with an ease that was a little unexpected but gratifying, tempting and slightly hypnotic to watch, he’d closed his eyes and had begun to pant lightly, his mouth hanging open a bit.

With intervals, he would moan, getting a little deeper and a little longer each time. More unrestrained and heartfelt as he progressively lost himself to it, the number of sentences in there diminishing simultaneously. Of course, the demon licking, nibbling and sucking on every piece of skin even remotely within his reach possibly assisted in that regard.

Then, there was the fact that with Crowley’s long legs laid over his somewhat shorter, thicker ones, he could touch them with relative ease and touch them he did; hands slid up and down slim thighs, the movement somehow seeming like more than random carresses. In fact, they seemed more like grounding movements, anchoring him as he floated ever higher. 

Crowley considered reaching down with his other hand and play with the angel’s testicles, on the condition that he’d manifested a pair of those too, of course, but it did look like he had. Actually, he also considered gripping onto a soft, plush hip hard instead, so that he could pull away the kilt and slot his erection into the deep crevice that would fit it so lovely and snugly.

He very quickly decided against it, though; whatever his subconscious might think it could get away with, this was his body and he wasn’t going to allow it to make demands or even decisions for him. This was not about him getting off, which was part of the reason he hadn’t made any sort of Effort in the first place, this was about Aziraphale.

So, he kept himself still, and kept the kilt firmly tied, as he ignored the way his cock throbbed and twitched in its loose confines. He didn’t reach down to touch the angel’s balls, either. Not because he didn’t want to or couldn’t handle it but because before he could, he had a better idea.

Still keeping his hand moving, occasionally changing gears or tactics to keep the blond engaged but making sure as best he could that he wouldn’t put the other over the edge, much to the frustration of the poor angel, Crowley let his free hand trail.

First over a soft stomach, apparently in the direction of the groin. Aziraphale felt it and lifted his hips encouragingly. When it was bypassed, he mewled softly in disappointment but didn’t object.

Then the hand trailed up to cup a soft chest, fingers gently tweaking at a nipple in a way that earned him a gratifying groan and said chest being thrust into his hand.

However, he didn’t linger there, but kept his hand moving, teasing wherever he went as he trailed in no particular pattern. On purpose.

His intention became clear only when his fingers at last sank into the softness of feathers again.

He’d debated with himself which wing to go for, as one might be more sensitive but the other wouldn’t ruin work he’d just done, but had decided on the groomed wing, as he didn’t intend anything intense. Nothing that couldn’t be easily fixed, anyway.

The moment he did sink his fingers back into them, though, there was a response.

Oh, was there ever a response.

Aziraphale’s entire body stiffened but before Crowley could get worried about it, either because it was the wrong move or, well, too _right _a move, the angel then became almost boneless in his arms. Almost.

That also made Crowley think that he’d sent the other over the proverbial edge, at least for a second. When no emission coated his hand and there were otherwise no indicators that Aziraphale had come, he dismissed it.

It didn’t seem like it would take long, though, but he hoped to be prepared and catch as much of the experience as he possibly could.

“Crooowleeey…!”

Oh…_someone, _what he wouldn’t give to have his name moaned like that on a regular basis! Or have it recorded. He’d have to make do with storing the memory in his mind, as vividly as he possibly could.

He let his teeth graze across soft flesh just a little at that while he sank his fingers deeper in between the feathers, starting up a rubbing motion that mimicked but harmonised rather than synced with the rhythm he’d built up on Aziraphale’s cock. His hips had started to rock, too, just a little, pushing him against the cleft and the swells on either side simultaneously.

“Aah, ah, aah!” Aziraphale cried then moaned again. Everything trembled and shuddered, his head was thrown back, and his mouth was slack. His hips bucked, too. “Crowley, I – ah!” Another, harder bucking of hips at that.

“Is it good, angel?” Crowley murmured, flicking his tongue out to tickle at the previously neglected earlobe.

He knew it was; he might have a lot of hang-ups about himself, but this was something he knew about – and this kind of reaction and behaviour was almost impossible to misinterpret. Almost, because, well, look who was talking.

That wasn’t really the point of his question, though.

“So good, so very good, dear, I, I don’t…it’s too much, I can’t…” The angel seemed to be babbling now, just a little. “I don’t know what’s…oooh, I – “

He cut himself off with a noise that Crowley couldn’t quantify.

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was raw and true and came as he climaxed, the demon putting pressure with his teeth and both hands all at once sending him hurtling over the edge.

Seed spilled with a force that Crowley hadn’t entirely expected, hitting him square on the jaw and in his face as he looked over the shoulder of the blond. He didn’t mind, though, and in fact was more preoccupied with watching Aziraphale’s face. Well, at least _as_ preoccupied.

Oh, that was _beautiful._

Another memory to save.

“That’s it, angel, that’s it,” he murmured in encouragement as he continued to pump him, trying to extend his climax for as long as he could without, hopefully, tipping him over into overstimulation. “Just let go, I’ve got you…”

_I’ll always have you, whenever you need it and in whatever capacity._

Eventually, after what felt like a very long time, the angel sagged properly back into the demon’s arms, evidently sated, though in a way that he’d never been before. Probably.

He turned his head towards Crowley as he slowly opened his eyes, a look of not only satiation but contentment and gratitude radiating from his face.

One of absolute, unconditional love.

It stole Crowley’s breath and stopped his heart for just a moment. Which wasn’t a big problem, given who and what he was, but even so…

_“Thank you_, my dearest,” he murmured around an equally contented smile. “That was…I don’t even know how to describe it but that was quite…”

Crowley stole a small kiss at that. “No need to explain, angel, it’s written all over your face – which is a good thing,” he hastened to add, just to make sure there wasn’t a misunderstanding.

“Is it…is it always like that, then?”

“When you do it right, yeah, should be.” He paused, then amended, “Doesn’t always happen, of course, even when you try your best, but ideally. I mean – “

Aziraphale threaded his fingers through Crowley’s, which were rather…covered in their own right, but that didn’t seem to bother the blond.

“I understand,” he said, and the demon wasn’t sure that it was only meant for the current situation. Not that he was going to press it, though, not right now.

He got a soft, lingering kiss despite the awkwardness of their positions. As the angel shifted for a better angle, though, something pushed against his backside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this probably feels like a bit of an odd place to end the chapter. Looking at where to cut it, though, this seemed the only halfway serviceable solution.  
This is probably more fluff than smut, tbh, for which I am sorry. I hope it worked even so. I can't necessarily do hot but I can do sweet.  
I've lampshaded a quote I couldn't help using. Can you guess it?  
We are not quite done yet, there's a tiny bit more, a sort of rather important bit, so will you stay with me for that?


	7. This I choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Aziraphale wants to reciprocate what he's just experienced, Crowley agrees...until he realises something else. Of course, that sparks a new worry, if not outright fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's kept reading and especially to the kind people who's left feedback. It's a help and the best thing I could hope for <3  
Also, if there's anything you'd like to see in this series, I'd love to know. :)

It took only a second or two for him to light up in understanding, for the expression to then segue into apologetic guilt.

“Oh, I am sorry, dear, how selfish of me to – “

Crowley shook his head, quickly. He also stopped the hand that tried to reach behind and in between them.

“No. Not selfish at all. This wasn’t about me; I didn’t intend it to be about me at all. It got here on its own, it’ll go away on its own.”

“Got here on its…? You mean that you didn’t –?”

“I didn’t…consciously make the Effort, as it were. It just sorta,” his nose scrunched up at that, “happened, all on its own, you know. Which I think was also the case for you, now that I come to…”

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s – no, actually, that’s rather my point.”

The fact that Aziraphale had to backtrack like that to get to the point he’d actually meant was a pretty clear sign he’d been quite significantly affected by, well, by his first sexual experience.

“My erected penis happened quite on its own, too,” the blond continued, and Crowley didn’t know whether to grin or groan at hearing Aziraphale use the phrase ‘erected penis’, “which I would’ve thought would be a good sign, at least insofar as…but you didn’t give any indication that mine was something that would ‘go away on its own’.”

“Well, no, but – “Crowley began to argue.

He was interrupted by Aziraphale turning around. Not only his upper body, either, but the entirety of his corporation, which he somehow managed to turn around gently but quickly, all in one go and without toppling either of them over.

A single neuron in Crowley’s brain flared up at that to comment on how that kind of flexibility, which wasn’t the first display of it, might prove useful in…future events. Not to mention his speed, of course.

Another noticed that he didn’t get slapped with wings on the way but that particular thing he wasn’t surprised by.

Most of his brain was far more preoccupied with the fact that instead of having a soft back against his front, he now had an angel in his lap.

Correction; he now had his bum in an angel’s lap, one hand on his hip while another was on his thigh.

“Aziraphale!” he cried but if it was a protest, it got a little garbled on its way to the recipient.

It at first appeared as though said recipient hadn’t listened, certainly, but that didn’t last.

Warm, green eyes looked into yellow a look of concern but also one of – and Crowley wasn’t quite prepared to see this one, especially not full-on like this – desire.

“If you genuinely don’t want me to, then I won’t,” Aziraphale said, his voice low and earnest. “Obviously. But if it’s merely because you don’t want to burden me or whatever else you might’ve cooked up in your brain, then…”

He trailed off and, at the same time, trailed his fingers down a slim hip to the fastenings of the kilt. His fingers didn’t make any attempt to open them, however.

Just as importantly, it was clear that they wouldn’t if Crowley said ‘no’. No, that they wouldn’t unless he said an unequivocal ‘yes’, in fact, which was much more important.

Crowley hesitated as he thought it over, while ignoring his erection, which throbbed an enthusiastic and insistent ‘yes’ beneath its covering. It should not be making the decision here.

Did he want to? Well, yes, _obviously, _it was bloody well Aziraphale, of course he wanted to! But leaving that aside, did he want to right now? He hadn’t intended to have genitalia right then and there, much less something that…showed off his more carnal appreciation of his angel, as it were.

Getting off was one thing, one which the angel had been happy to experience, unquestionably, but that didn’t translate to him being honestly okay with getting someone else off, as well.

Would Aziraphale see it as rejection? Regardless of what he said, would he be hurt by being turned down like that? It still fit within being his first sexual experience, as far as Crowley knew, so things were a bit more delicate than they might otherwise be.

On the other hand, he did sound genuine and he could be hurt, too, if the demon seemed to agree for his sake rather than his own.

…Did things ever stop being difficult? Six thousand years on this planet, knowing this impossible, perfect being in front of, and below, him, and he couldn’t have answered that question if you put a gun full of holy water to his temple.

But perhaps…

He nodded in agreement, then, realising that that might be misconstrued, he also spoke.

“I want you to, angel. I really do. But I – “

He didn’t get to finish the sentence – and wasn’t that becoming rather an odd regular occurrence? – before the fingers made quick work of the fastenings of the kilt.

_Which you asked for as easy to remove a piece of clothing, too, what’s the poor thing supposed to think?_

That was a point, wasn’t it?

Once opened, he gently tugged at the fabric. It followed easily, as promised, and soon enough pooled on the bed beside them.

That left Crowley entirely exposed and while he was hardly shy or self-conscious when it came to his body – honestly, after more than six millennia on this earth, quite apart from being a demon, if you were still hung up on what your unchanging corporation looked like, then you had another, more deeply-rooted problem, didn’t you? – this genuinely was something else for him.

This was Aziraphale, after all, not whatever human he’d managed to tempt into this with him. His angel, his nestmate, and it was the first time he _saw _him entirely naked like this, never mind the genitalia, which was quite different from just feeling it.

A worry, perhaps more accurately termed a fear, flashed a fin at that, rather late to the party, in his subsequent opinion, of whether this wouldn’t…not so much be attracting undue attention to them but be a sin. That he was corrupting an angel. It was a large fin.

Love wasn’t corruption, surely, though to love a demon pushed it more towards that, knowing the glorioles up there, and it might be argued that Aziraphale receiving pleasure was, well, being tempted by a demon. Which could be chalked up to a moment of weakness, or even forced into it, if the angel spun his words right should he be confronted with it, either in his own mind or by his fellow angels.

This, however,…this was different. To have him actively participate like this, return the favour, as it were, that pushed into a whole other territory. One that he wasn’t sure the angel had thought about, much less thought through and that was…that was worrying.

So, he held up a hand to stop or at least halt Aziraphale.

“Angel, are you…do you realise what you’re doing?”

Green eyes met his, mild puzzlement and light concern in them as well as a dash of feeling put upon.

“Well, I was rather hoping I would be able to reciprocate what you just let me experience, which was beyond wonderful, too.”

“Well, yes, but – you do realise exactly what you’re about to do, do you?”

“I’m afraid that, if you’re alluding to something else, dear, I’m not following you. What else should I be doing other than being about to stimulate your penis to completion?”

Hearing that mouth use such a phrase was not something Crowley was prepared for, not yet nor likely ever to be, not helped by the unperturbed way it was said. Still, his mind grasped unto the technically correct, but dry description.

“A hand-job, Aziraphale, it’s called – and that isn’t the point. Or it is!”

“You really aren’t making much sense.”

“I know that!”

No, shouting wasn’t a good idea. Nor was getting angry or frustrated. It was hardly Aziraphale’s fault Crowley hadn’t explained himself, was it? Had in fact failed to illuminate just the kind of danger he was in, and the fact that the demon had only just realised himself - and why the bleeding Heaven hadn't he caught onto that earlier? It was hardly an unlikely thing, was it? - was hardly much of an excuse, if an excuse at all.

“I – I’m a – it’s a – and you’re an angel!”

That wasn’t much better. Bless it all, and he’d made such an effort and come so far, he thought, earlier, only to have his mouth turn on him. Again.

However, it seemed that it got across better than he thought, because said angel’s eyes widened a little in apparent realisation.

“Oh, Crowley,” he sighed, but it was a sigh full of sympathetic pain rather than exasperation, even fond one.

He then reached out and down, deftly and quickly so that he got there before the demon had a chance to bat his hand away, to wrap his hand around Crowley’s shaft, firmly and over as much of it as he could.

Slim hips bucked hard at that, despite clear efforts to sit still. Efforts, too, to halt the blond, which was quite neatly bypassed.

"Aziraphale...”

"No. I did say that if it’s something that’s purely been cooked up in your brain – “

"It’s not, is it?" Crowley asked and his desperation made it almost a snarl. "A sin’s a very real thing and – “

"Something that I have either already committed purely by being with you, or being intimate with you, or this will not count as sinning, either.”

“I – would you s-stop stroking me while – nngh – that’s not – I don’t want you to _fall_.”

_Should’ve thought about that earlier, then, shouldn’t you?_

Sometimes he really wished his brain would just shut the fucking heaven up. Just because it was right didn’t give it free rein to say whatever it blessedly pleased!

Aziraphale, however, didn’t share the sentiment of Crowley’s brain. Or so it seemed, as he smiled warmly and to be fair to him, he also did slow his stroking down though he didn’t entirely stop.

“I made my decision, dear, knowing what risks there might be.”

“You didn’t know about – haaa – about sex before now.”

“Not in the specifics, no, but you can’t – do you honestly think that…well, perhaps I did not,” he conceded with a small pouting twist of his lips and a head tilt, “but let me then rephrase. I know that now and I am still making this decision.”

He touched their foreheads together, in a gesture Crowley couldn’t fail to remember the first instance of and his heart beat a little bit harder and faster. Well, no, more than a little. A whole lot more than a little, in fact.

“I make this decision, my dearest love,” Aziraphale, staring straight into the yellow eyes, where there was a clear battle to keep the white in the sclera. “_My _nestmate. My Crowley.”

With that, he started his stroking up properly again.

To say ‘properly’ was underselling it severely, too; Aziraphale was nothing if not a keen student and a quick study, and he had Crowley grasping onto his shoulders, hard, within a few strokes.

Not that the ginger hadn’t been stimulated quite a lot already, but he was a demon, there were certain benefits to it. Such as some stamina when it came to this sort of thing.

That said, he had to concentrate to keep this from being a rather brief stint. That would just be _embarrassing._

He panted and huffed, occasionally groaned, all of it with their foreheads still pressed together and Aziraphale’s lips temptingly close.

More important, though, was to look into green eyes as he jerked him off. Both to see whether he was enjoying doing this and to make sure that, well…

He must’ve been less subtle than he thought because at some point, just as he could feel everything draw up tighter, tighter, ready to explode, he heard and saw Aziraphale whisper.

"I will not fall yet if I do, then it is my choice. My choice, my own. Do you understand me?”

There was love in that voice but there was also a slight bit of command, which spoke of the fact that however soft and loving and kind he was, and he genuinely was, he was also a Principality and had been given, even though he’d given it away, a flaming sword…that he knew how to wield.

“Aziraphale…”

“Crowley.”

“I…oh, _fuck_…!”

With that, he screwed his eyes shut and his hiss was as though the Jörmungandr itself had opened its mouth, the room rattling around them from that noise as he came.

When he seemed to at last be done, Aziraphale gathered him to him, even closer than before and almost cradled him against his warm body…which still had its wings out, too. Wings that shielded him.

He felt an itch to release his own wings at that but managed to somehow keep it in check.

"Should’ve…I was meant to be taking care of you…through this, I mean,” he muttered. When had his head fallen onto Aziraphale’s shoulder?

Wait, was –? He needed to see, now.

His head jerked upwards, or at least, it tried to. A plump hand on the back of his neck halted him.

However, he jerked his head again, harder and with determination, and managed to push the hand away. This was important.

He took in the state of the angel holding him, slitted eyes flickering all over the blond to see whether they could find any indication, no matter how small, that Aziraphale had Fallen.

After all, the Lord did not put you on a waiting list for things like that. She was quite efficient in that department, he remembered.

But there was nothing. Fire he might have expected there to be a minimum of, if any, but the rest of it…

No indication that his eyes were turning, no smell of sulphur. No dimming of the angelic aura or disappearance of his light. No blackening wings, even.

Aziraphale just sat there, patiently, waiting for Crowley to finish his inspection.

“You’re not…you’re still you.”

The, still, angel smiled. “Of course.”

“You didn’t know that,” Crowley said, and it was a slight accusation.

“I…no, I didn’t,” the blond admitted after a moment. “But I still made the choice, and I wouldn’t have chosen otherwise if I’d known for certain one way or the other.”

“You wouldn’t have…” And shouldn’t he stop doubting Aziraphale this much when really, the one he was doubting was himself? “Angel, you really were prepared to Fall?”

There was no hesitation.

“Yes.”

The mere idea, not to mention the reality of it, nearly discorporated the poor demon from the love that such an act had to stem from.

“And you think that She – She is – “

“Don’t question Her, Crowley, it – “

“I swear, if you try to say something even remotely along the lines of ‘ineffable’ – “

“What else would you call it? That manages to fit the criteria, that is.”

Crowley opened his mouth, got about as far as a droning clack as far as noise goes and closed it with a clack, then made a face.

Aziraphale laughed softly and leaned up to kiss his demon.

“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley said when they pulled apart. “I know I – “

“I love you, too, Crowley,” Aziraphale interrupted, “and it’s okay. It’ll always be okay. No matter what happens.”

“No matter what?”

“Yes. This I choose.”

There was silence for a while after that, the two supernatural beings just quietly basking in each other’s company.

Then, so quietly a church mouse would have to listen carefully.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I am being quite horribly selfish right now.”

“You, angel?”

“Yes, me. Demons don’t get exclusive rights on that.”

“Think actually someone lost the deeds to that long time ago, to some humans. Something like that, anyway.”

Crowley paused in speaking at that, thinking. Then he reached out, slowly and lazily, exceedingly content where he was, nestled in the arms of not just an angel, but _his _angel, his nestmate, thank-you-very-much, to where he could just about reach the top of one wing.

“You know, I never did get to finish grooming these. I should remedy that, eh?”

“I believe you ought to, yes. It’d only be right to finish what you started.”

“True.”

The smile they shared at that was one that would warm everyone it touched like the brightest of suns on a cloudless day but admit nobody but themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm sorry that it's short, after making you wait, and that it's another bout of angst, seemingly out of nowhere, and that it's the last chapter. I hope that it isn't too much of a let-down as such and that you can forgive me. :( I couldn't see what more it'd be reasonable to explore within this.  
I do have another story in mind to write in this series (at least), perhaps that will make up for it a little.  
Thank you to everyone who's been kind enough to follow me through this story (and the previous), it's been a joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this even remotely what people had in mind? I hope it'll be at least a little bit satisfying as we go on. Oh, fuck it, I don't know...and I am still nervous as hell, even more so than on the first one!  
I felt bad that they're still miscommunicating and Crowley is still so unsure but I honestly couldn't see how it would magically, aha, just disappear.
> 
> Feedback is loved and cherished as always but please by kind and constructive in your criticism.


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